Another’s Guilt
by Numenora
Summary: Legolas gets separated from his kin during an Orc attack. He wanders lost until he comes upon a human left for dead by thieves. Then he is accused of the crime. See inside for complete summary This a slash MM, Mpreg story. please read warnings!
1. Chapter 1 “An Innocent Lost”

Another's Guilt by Númenora

An Aragorn/Legolas fiction

Disclaimers: Characters that you recognize are the domain of J. R. R. Tolkien and his estate and possibly others who are authorized to use them for profit (which does not include me). I am making no money from this and no infringement is intended. Any other characters that may appear are of my design and clearly pale in comparison although these characters may have the names of other Tolkien characters from the Appendences or from other Tolkien works.

Summary: On a diplomatic mission to Lothlórien, Legolas gets separated from his kin during an Orc attack. He wanders lost for several days until he comes upon a human, stabbed and left for dead by thieves. When the man's relatives find the elf covered in his blood, the elf is captured and accused of the crime. Will the injured man live long enough to clear him or will the Prince pay the price for the misdeed of unscrupulous men?

Rating: M eventually (PG-13 for now)

Warnings: AU, M/M slash, Mpreg. Also major angst and for a several chapters, Aragorn will be OOC in regards to Legolas; although he will have a good reason for his behavior (part of which will not be revealed at first), it may be disconcerting to some readers. Legolas will also be a bit OOC due to his young age and very sheltered life up to the point that he is separated from his Elven brothers. Though he is skilled in the use of weapons, he lacks actual battle experience and he has never before gone beyond the borders of Mirkwood (Known as Greenwood the Great or Eryn Lasgalen for this fic). He is out of his element and he will have to face unfamiliar situations and unfamiliar and unfriendly people—namely humans.

Again, this is a slash (Mpreg) story; if you don't like or approve of this type story, please do not read it. This is a simple work of fiction and is not meant to make you think, nor is it trying to be a great piece of literature. It is simply something I wanted to write and share; if you don't like it, you are welcomed to give constructive criticism, but I would appreciate it if people refrain from flaming (they serve no purpose except to be mean and juvenile).

A/N: In a future chapter, the back-story or history will be explained—mainly the relationship between men and elves and the decline of the Old Alliance. In this story which is strictly AU, Aragorn is the Crowned Prince of Gondor, 20 years of age; Boromir is his cousin, 25 years and Faramir is Boromir's younger brother, 19 years (both are still Denethor's sons) and Éomer is a close friend to all three young men (same rank and a citizen of Rohan as in the LOTR), 25 years. Arathorn II is King and he is brother-in-law to Denethor (Steward) whose late wife Finduilas was Arathorn's older sister and is married to Gilraen. Finally, Legolas is 700 years old (equivalent to 16-17 years old by Human standards for my fic) and is the youngest Prince of Mirkwood (his two older brothers are OC with Tolkien names). The blood of Númenor is not as diminished as spoken of in the LOTR movies and the life-span is equivalent to the time of Elros who was granted the life-span of 500 years¹

Thoughts and stressed words are in _Italics_

Chapter One

"An Innocent Lost"

It was getting late and in a few short hours, night would fall for the third evening—and he was still alone. No one (none of his people at least) had found him. _They must think that you are dead; no being—not even one as resilient as an elf—would be expected to survive the fall from that cliff._ The Yrch beasts were very successful in separating the lesser skilled warrior. Although Legolas had participated in a number of patrols inside the Great Greenwood, he had considerably less practical experience in dealing with these fell creatures than his brothers and the other older elves that had been guarding his father's realm for thousands of years.

In fact, King Thranduil had been very reluctant to allow his youngest son to leave the confines of his well-guarded kingdom. But, the Prince had pleaded—and not for the first time—to be given more freedom; to be allowed to accompany the delegation being sent to Lothlórien. His eldest brother Oropher would be leading the diplomatic group traveling to the Golden Wood to attend the celebration commemorating the Founding of Lothlórien. The King hated seeing his youngest so disappointed—once again being denied what elves younger than he were permitted to do, so he gave Legolas his permission, provided that his brothers (and the entire delegation of fifty elves) swore that he would be well protected. The journey had been very exciting—never had the beautiful blond seen such wonders; sights that he had only read about. Then it all had gone terribly wrong and they were attacked by band about seventy Orcs. The dark beings were no match for the highly-skilled wood-elves, but they managed to wound several (one mortally so) by dividing them from the larger group, forcing the lone elves to fight unaided in inferior positions. That is what happened to Legolas; his lack of battle experience and the menacing fiends surrounding him forced him to make a critical error—he failed to notice that he was being given no room to retreat and he had managed to lose sight of his siblings and they he. He had disobeyed Prince Arminas' instruction to take to the trees and stay there. He had returned to the battle when he noticed one of the elves (the seriously wounded one) had been cut off and had become surrounded; the elf was his friend (newly so) and he thought to aid him. The young blond had fired off several shots from his bow (he is a very skilled archer) and killed about five Orcs who had moved to further separate the failing elf from the majority of the company; but Gelmir was in dire straits, so Legolas left the relative safety of the large tree and jumped to Gelmir's defense, becoming trapped himself.

He managed to evade the attacking fiends, but he backed himself into an area that had no point of retreat—that is where he fell from the cliff, just missing the craggy out-cropping and then landed hard into the dense canopy of an ancient Live Oak. Legolas crashed through, hitting several limbs, but the thickness of the leaves slowed his momentum and kept him from doing fatal damage to himself. Somehow, he managed to grab one limb that was slender enough for his hand to hold onto and young and strong enough to support the lightweight of the falling youth. Only an elf could have accomplished this feat; a man or any other larger-framed being would have perished. But the Prince came away with only a sprained wrist; three sprained fingers of his right hand; and some cracked ribs and, unbeknownst to him, a minor concussion. He attempted to climb up, hoping that he'd be able to scale the rock-face and return to his big brothers; but the task was impossible—even if he had not been injured. There was no way that he could get from the tree over to the side of the crag; and the sides had no hand-holds—it was a virtual piece of solid up and down rock.

The King's youngest decided his best bet was to reach the ground, move in the direction that they had been heading when the attack happened and try to find a way out of the gorge, thereby hopefully meeting up with his kin. It should have been a good plan, but the reality proved near impossible as the young Elda got lost when he had to flee a wild boar that had caught his sweet Elven scent. He had no weapons save for one of his twin blades—the other one as well as his arrows were lost some time during his fall, landing somewhere out of sight and his bow was damaged beyond repair. He was nearly defenseless. He wanted to cry. He nearly cried that first night alone, but he reminded himself that he was the ion of the Great Elvenking and he would not behave like some elfling. By the second night, he gave in to his despair; although his fingers and wrist were starting to heal, his damaged ribs were hurting and he had a headache. The only comfort that he found was in the company of the surrounding trees who spoke to him as he rested among them. But the lovely elf realized that he would have to leave the safety of the dense area and venture out into the opening so that he could get an idea where he was in relationship to the cliff he tumbled off, and try hard to find the way back to his family who were no doubt searching for him.

"Searching for your dead body, you mean. Why didn't you stay where you were—they could have found you by now," Legolas berated, that second night. He knew that his decisions had not been well-thought out and running for his life from the boar seriously turned him around and the pain from his injuries (and concussion) kept him from thinking clearly.

So here it was the third day and he finally faced the truth of his situation; he had no idea where he was. Since he had not found any place that looked familiar to him, he deduced that he hadn't been going around in circles, for he could no longer see the mound of rock which meant that he had more than likely gone in the opposite direction of where he'd intended to go.

The Prince had decided to make camp for the evening when he heard sounds coming from somewhere before him. "Oropher," he whispered in delighted hope that the Crowned Prince had come for him. Running as fast as he could with his still-injured ribs, he hastened towards the noises in a small copse of trees. What he saw there made his blood freeze. _Men_. The young wood-elf had never seen men before. His adar had long ago forbade any to come into the inner realm of Greenwood the Great several centuries ago; long before Legolas had been born. His relationship had lasted a bit longer with the dwarves, so Legolas was old enough to recall seeing them at Thranduil's halls. But those times were over as well.

Legolas stood rooted to the spot as he witness a very well-dressed young man fighting off two rougher-looking ones; he was holding his own against them until he noticed the green-clad beautiful elf staring wide-eyed at him and his assailants. The distraction gave the thieves the break they needed and one of the ruffians lunged forwards, stabbing the red-haired young adan below his ribs, thereby causing his sword arm to dip, giving the other larger thug an advantage and he clobbered the nobleman on the back of his head. After the injured man fell unconscious to the ground, they pounced, stripping him of his valuables until a loud yell brought them up short.

The fascinated pair just stared as wide-eyed as the elf had been just moments before, neither having seen an elf before. They quickly recovered when the fair being ran towards them, shiny Elven blade raised in an attack mode. Having gotten what they were after, the two ran, leaping onto the nobleman's horse and rode off into the distance.

Legolas reached the man's side, at first fearful of touching him; whether he was afraid of further injuring the bleeding male or just afraid of someone unfamiliar, he was unsure. But the pitiful moans coming from the prone form spurred the Prince into action. Pale hands carefully turned the mortal over and the Princeling was mindful of the wound that was leaking copious amounts of blood as he did so. He was unsure as to what should be done to save this human's life. The only experience that he had of the healing arts was only the most basic of first aid—the kind that were needed for injuries incurred during skirmishes on the practice fields. _Well there was that time that Galdor was wounded on his shoulder after he failed to properly parry during a sparring match. _The healer that was present had applied pressure to the elf's shoulder to staunch the bleeding before dressing the wound. Armed with this knowledge, but far from confident, the elf picked up the knife that he'd dropped when he fell to his knees next the fallen man. His thought was to quickly fashion some kind of bandage from his undershirt to dress the wound and then he would apply the necessary pressure to keep as much of the life's blood inside of the weak mortal body.

"Forgive me if this hurts you," said the heavily accented voice in the Common Tongue. The almost violet blue eyes of the unknown young man briefly stared at Legolas before fluttering close again. Blood squirted from beneath the elegant fingers, staining the green tunic of the would-be healer as well as the knife that was lying across the shapely hips of the blond. Legolas was concentrating so hard on his task—a task that he was unsure of—that his normally sharp elven hearing nearly failed to warn him of approaching horse hooves coming from just behind the Prince's position. Thinking that the thieves were returning to kill them both, Legolas retrieved his long knife and struck an attack posture, ready to defend himself and his worsening patient.

From the sound of the hooves, there were several riders approaching; but they didn't seem to be in any hurry. The hooligans must have brought reinforcements to finish what they started and take care of the Elven warrior, too. He refused to get his hopes up that these were his brothers coming for him. He knew the sound of Elven mounts and these had the sound of ones with shod hooves. "I will try to save us both, Hir-nin (My Lord), but I am injured as well and I am no match for so many. I pray to the Valar that these Men are friendly and mean us no harm." Legolas was truly afraid; he didn't realize that if the unconscious mortal could hear him, it was unlikely he would have been able to understand the wood-elf for he had lapsed into Sindarin in his nervousness.

These Edain weren't visible through the tree's foliage, but they were close. The terrified immortal closed his eyes briefly, sending up the promised prayer to Eru and one silent plea to his beloved father—Adar, please forgive me for the grief my death will cause...I am sorry.

"Come now, Your Highness; surely you jest? Boromir, what say you to all this?" The 3rd Marshall of the Riddermark was nonplussed. His handsome face alight with mirth.

Boromir raised his hands up in a gesture that seemed to beg off contradicting his Prince and cousin. "I stand by my Lord's assessment; I was not there—at least not consciously," said the green-eyed blond.

"He was in his cups, and had long been passed out from the freely flowing ail. I on the other hand was quite sober as was the dwarf relaying the tale. Lord Gimli swore to me the truth of it; dwarf women do exist and those old tales that dwarven babies are mined out of the mountains along with their gems and mithril are all lies and falsehoods." The extremely handsome Crowned Prince asserted. "The reason no one other than dwarves recalls seeing these elusive females is because they have the same features as their male counterparts."

"Beards and all?" Éomer asked incredulously.

"Beards and all! Perhaps we should plan a trip to visit Gimli and he can introduce us to his relatives and I will be exonerated and can once again enjoy the privilege of having your undying faith in me!"

Éomer laughed at the 'hurt and insulted' look on his friend Aragorn's face.

The attractive trio continued their fun until the guards riding ahead of them called a halt as the clearing before them came into view. With a cry of despair, Lord Boromir jumped from the back of his mount and ran straight for the two beings positioned on the worn path. "Faramir!"

"Boromir, no! Take care," Aragorn was only seconds behind his cousin and managed to catch him, placing his body between the distraught noble and the blood-covered elf hovering above his unconscious cousin threateningly.

The humans hadn't been close enough for the young elf to hear their words clearly, but they seemed to be speaking in a jovial, animated way. Their tone led him to conclude that they were civilized and not like the coarse men who had robbed his young 'friend' beside him. His first glimpse of the uniformed men leading the still concealed majority put the Elven Prince somewhat at ease—he was used to dealing with guardsmen.

However, Legolas' brief relief at seeing these Men and not the thieves he expected quickly fled as the furious dark-haired adan with the hate-filled blue-green eyes plunged towards him, knocking him to the ground hard, jarring and re-injuring his already damaged ribcage, causing the air to swoosh out of him along with an anguished groan. When his sight cleared, the blond wood-elf tried to escape his attacker, but he was unable to; the larger male had his full weight pressed against him and one of his strong hands had worked its way into the Prince's thick silver-blond mane, pulling his head back to an uncomfortable angle and the other had wrenched the sharp knife out of his pain-loosened grip. That knife was now pressed menacingly against Legolas' vulnerable, pale throat and an equally menacing voice spoke to him in perfect Sindarin, "Move, _Elf-filth_ and I'll cut your murdering throat!"

TBC

Please review and tell me what you think so far.

¹ Elros' age as stated in the book Tolkien's World from A to Z, The Complete Guide to Middle-earth, Robert Foster, pg. 145.


	2. Chapter 2 “Presumed Guilty”

Another's Guilt by Númenora

Disclaimers and Summary: See Chapter One.

Warnings: SLASH (M/M), Mpreg and Very AU

Rating: PG-13

Thoughts and stressed words are in _Italics_

Chapter Two

"Presumed Guilty"

_That knife was now pressed menacingly against Legolas' vulnerable, pale throat and an equally menacing voice spoke to him in perfect Sindarin, 'Move, Elf-filth and I'll cut your murdering throat!'_

"_Saes_, Hir-nin..." Legolas voice trailed off as the sharp blade bit into his exposed throat, a thin line of red coating the already blood-stained knife.

"Silence!" Aragorn hissed ominously; he was not in the mood for any pleas for mercy from his cousin's murderer.

"Aragorn, come, please; my brother is in need your skills of healing," Boromir, the Steward's eldest son cried out desperately. "Stay with me, Little Brother," Pressing gentle kisses on Faramir deathly pale forehead.

The Gondorian Prince briefly took his eyes off of the beautiful Elda to give orders to the well-armed guards protectively surrounding their Royal charges, weapons drawn. "Morwen...Girion...watch him; if he tries to escape—kill him!" Aragorn kept the blade at Legolas' neck until the two Royal guards secured him in their grasps, forcing him none-to-gently to his knees. The other guards moved closer for added protection against the perceived threat from the elf.

Legolas watched anxiously as the one call 'Aragorn' knelt by the wounded one called 'Faramir.' Faramir was not moving and he made no sounds that would tell Prince Legolas if he still lived. The elf prayed again to the Valar for this mortal's life and he also selfishly prayed for his own for he knew that if Faramir died, he would be executed for the crime. He wanted desperately to tell these people that he only tried to care for and protect their friend, but he knew no one here would believe him. The only one who knew of his innocence; the only one that could save him now may already be dead and beyond helping anyone ever again. The thought filled the scared wood-elf with a hopelessness that he could only remember feeling one other time in his seven centuries of life—the day his adar told him that his mother was gone to Mandos' Hall to be with Daerada (Grandfather) Oropher. Like that day so long ago, he let out a soft pitiful wail of despair though he tried valiantly to keep quiet and not anger the edain further.

"Quiet, you," accompanied the bruising fingers gripping him and one of the guardsmen kneed him viciously for measure. The immortal struggled to comply as he fixed his gaze on the three men at the center of this tableau. He couldn't see much from his vantage point (the uniformed males held him several feet away), but he watched as best as he could. Another male with long blond hair joined the one called 'Boromir,' placing a comforting arm across his broad shoulders. They looked hopefully towards the dark-haired man who hovered over the prone figure, hands working knowledgeably while giving terse orders to several uniformed men who scurried hither and yond, bringing plants and herbs that the Gondoran added to water and strips of cloth.

Since the man's back was turned towards Legolas, the Elda couldn't see exactly what the mortal was doing, but the fact that the adan worked steadily gave the elf hope that Faramir yet lived. The sun had set by the time Aragorn stood up; he and Boromir had carefully moved his patient from the path, nearer to the trees where a pallet consisting of several bedrolls was waiting and they covered him with warm blankets. A fire was also burning nearby to keep the young man warm and to keep water in a metal pot simmering with herbs hot. The not-unpleasant aroma from the herbs assailed Legolas as did the sight of the gathered men eating; they passed between them bread, dried fruits and meats and waterskins filled with water laced with simple wine. The Prince's stomach growled loudly and his throat was parched; he hadn't eaten for hours, having had only a handful of berries he foraged for just after dawn.

No one offered the elf any nourishment and he ached from his earlier assault; and his ribs were further aggravated by his arms that had been pulled back by the tightly bound ropes cutting into the tender flesh of the elf's slender wrists. His ankles were just as securely bound, but they were protected from the coarse ropes by the soft leather boots he wore. He was glad that the young mortal yet lived, but his earlier feelings of despair and despondency returned, though he managed to keep quiet this time. He was, however unable to keep his tears at bay and they streamed down unchecked, leaving clear tracks through the dirt and grime smudging the stunning heart-shaped face. He faced the fact that everything in his life had changed. He had never before been so hungry or ill-treated and there was never a time when he'd felt so bereft of hope. _I want to go home...I want Adar...my brothers._

Tears continued to fall and no one noticed; nor would they care if they did. Exhaustion and grief soon overwhelmed him and he gave into them and for a few hours, Legolas was happy as he slipped into revelry...and was home again.

Éomer tried in vain to get Boromir to eat, but the young captain refused. "You must eat something; you will do Faramir no good if you fall ill."

"I know you mean well, but I care not for food; I do not believe that it would stay down even if I tried. Peace, My Lord—I know you mean well."

"Then drink some tea, at least—it will refresh you so that you can keep your vigil," Aragorn said sensibly. "I will join you as I will need to keep his wound clean."

Nodding his assent with a grateful, sad smile, Boromir took the offered cup and sipped the hot brew carefully. Éomer took up Aragorn's former position on the other side of the sleeping red-head as the Crowned Prince of Gondor sat close to his cousin, placing a tender kiss to the man's right temple.

"What of the elf, Your Highness? I would never have thought that a member of the First Born would act so cruelly. I can't imagine what Faramir could have done to provoke such a violent response." Éomer asked Aragorn, perplexed.

"You blame my brother for this?" Boromir asked incredulous and a bit angrily.

"Peace, Cousin; Éomer did not mean to imply that," The Prince soothe.

"Nay, I did not; in my bewilderment, I misspoke. Forgive me." Éomer said contritely.

Calmed down, Boromir nodded as he turned back to watch over his little brother, cooling his fevered brow with a cool compress.

"He looks so young and fragile—I would not think him capable of out-matching someone as well-trained as Faramir," Éomer continued mindful of Boromir's feelings.

"I know of elves; don't let their appearances fool you. Though slight of build, elves can be quite strong and though youthful-looking, this elf could be thousands of years old. They are fierce warriors and can out-match even the best-trained among us. They've had centuries to perfect their skills." The Prince explained.

"But surely a warrior would act more honorably. Elves are noted for their honor."

"Elves are people with free will and not all are noble. Some care naught but for themselves and all others including the very innocent do not even warrant their consideration." Aragorn said with conviction and a hint of bitterness tingeing his words.

"I see." Éomer looked over at the Steward's youngest and brushed soft, damp tendrils off the too-warm forehead as he digested what Aragorn told them. "I just wish this hadn't happened to you, Dear Friend."

"We all wish that," Boromir said; he never took his eyes from his brother. "I'd give anything." The trio lapsed into silence after that, but the Crowned Prince of Gondor allowed his eyes to drift away from his injured cousin over to the slumbering wood-elf.

_Rest while you can and enjoy your walk in elven dreams for it will be the last bit of peace you will have—I will see to that! _He continued to stare at the prisoner leaning against an old stump as he slept—the ever-present guards flanking—until it was time to replace Faramir's soiled bandage.

Boromir jerked himself awake, berating himself for falling asleep in the first place. Faramir needed him.

As if reading his thoughts, Aragorn said as he handed the man another cup of tea, "Faramir would not begrudge you some rest, Cousin. As Éomer pointed out last night, you will be of no use if you become ill, too."

"My head understands this, but my heart does not. I feel as if he will die if I but turn away." His hand caressed Faramir's face tenderly, testing for fever at the same time. "How is he, really?"

"The bleeding has stopped, but the blood loss keeps him weak. The herbs that I have been giving to him have kept the infection down, though he is still too warm for my liking. It was a vicious attack; the only true blessing is that no vital organs were seriously damaged, though the sheer size and dept of the wound will take time to heal. We will have to remain here at least another day until he is stronger; I don't want to move him prematurely."

After adjusting the blanket more securely, the healer continued, "I've sent two of rangers ahead to the outpost to bring back a proper healer to rendezvous with us for we will have to travel slowly. Míriel has been constructing a stretcher to bear Faramir and we all can take turns carrying him, though the Royal Guardsmen and Rangers have all volunteered to bear him the entire way. They admire and love him; it broke their hearts when Lord Denethor reassigned him from the Rangers to the Diplomatic corps."

"It is strange that all who meet him loves him except for the one who should love him above all. I have spent my life trying to make it up to Faramir; to give to him the love that Mother can no longer give and the love that Father refuses to give him. It is not fair! It is not..." Tears that he had been battling since they found his younger brother fell unbidden; he could no longer fight them nor did he wish to.

Aragorn pulled his relative into his strong embrace and they both allowed themselves to feel their sadness over what had happened. Hearing the sobs, the men became concerned that Lord Faramir had gotten worse or, Valar forbid, had died. Some stood looking fearfully while others looked with hate at the still sleeping Elda who was responsible.

One of the men who first guarded the elf pulled his sword, ready to end the life of the immortal. Another sentinel held his wrist to stay his sword hand; with a sympathetic look, he advised, "The elf must stand trial. Only King Arathorn or the Crowned Prince can order a summary execution—and that is only on the battlefield and in times of war. Please stand down." Reluctantly, Girion did as he was asked and backed away from the bound elf.

Noticing that their Prince had resumed his care of the prone figure, the humans breathed easier as they realized that their fears were proven wrong and their former lieutenant yet lived—the innocent Elven Prince was safe for the moment.

Éomer looked to the lightening sky as he entered their camp; the pinks and purples along with the stars valiantly fought a losing battle against the rising sun in the last hour before dawn. He had gone foraging for food (something more substantial than dried fare) after getting a few hours of troubled sleep. Faramir wouldn't be able to eat what he'd caught, but he felt that he was somehow helping the pretty young man. Éomer had a secret fondness that went beyond simple friendship, but he has kept his feelings to himself knowing how much his sister Éowyn cared for the diplomat. Of course, his uncle was hoping for a match with the Crowned Prince for his niece—it was a truly complicated mess! _Perhaps, when you are better, Dear Friend, I will tell you how I feel._

He made his way over to a group of the rangers bearing his 'catch' for he refrained from calling it game. Though he did hunt the wild hare, there wasn't any true sport or skill in the catching; no arrows were used. He simply plucked the defenseless animals from their hutch while they slept. Of course, in Éomer's opinion, there wasn't much more sport or skill involved in hunting hare with a bow either. He slowed as he neared the spot where the elf was being held and found himself staring much as the other men were who guarded the immortal. It was not because he posed any threat presently nor the fact that the Elda was stunningly beautiful, but because, like him, none (or not many) had ever been this close to an elf nor had they ever witnessed one sleeping—open eyes very disconcerting.

One of the Gondorians came over to relieve him of his burden—ten hares, large bunch of wild onions and a large celery root. "Thank you, Corporal. I think that this will be a welcome change from dried meats and berries."

"That it will, my Lord Captain. I only hope that the aroma will be enough to make Captain Boromir hungry enough to eat this day." The young Corporal observed worriedly.

"My thoughts exactly; and perhaps it will spur our dear Faramir to get better, smelling real food." Sadness clouded his words at the unlikelihood. He took one last look at the elf before leaving the ranger to prepare the animals for a stew.

Aragorn turned as Éomer approached them; he had just changed the dressing on his patient's wound. "I see that you've been very productive this morning." The Prince smiled gently as he was joined by the Rohirric Captain.

"I thrive to be of use, Your Highness," Said with a 'humble' bow of his head. Then more seriously, "Is he any better?"

"Some, but not enough." His eyes traveled over to the blond captive coldly before turning to look at Faramir, lovingly watched over by his ever vigilant brother.

"Have you slept any, Aragorn?" Éomer inquired. He knew that Boromir managed to fall asleep before he left to hunt for the rabbits—though he suspected not for long.

"I rested my eyes briefly, charging the guardsmen to wake me if I sleep for more than half an hour." Aragorn admitted.

"Then why don't you rest now and I'll wake you in an hour or two; sooner if Faramir awakens or...changes..." Éomer's voice faltered.

"I think that I will. He is a bit stronger, I think." Draping his arm across the blond's shoulder, they walked over to the spot where the sons of Denethor were. Aragorn checked on the red-head before leaning himself against the tree close to Faramir and closed his eyes. He briefly opened them again and smiled as his cousin momentarily abandoned his charge to drape a blanket over him. The words 'sweet dreams' were the last he heard before falling into a light sleep.

TBC

Please review.


	3. Chapter 3 'Blame'

Another's Guilt by Númenora

Rating: M this chapter

Disclaimers and Summary: See chapter one.

Warnings: Remember, this is slash; AU, Mpreg. Un-betaed, all mistakes are mine.

Dreams denoted by

Thoughts and stressed words by _Italics_

Chapter Three

"Blame"

_'Higher, Ada, higher!' A fit of childish laughter floated high up into the tree tops as tiny, pale arms wrapped securely around the neck of the Golden Elvenking as he scaled the ancient Mellyrn. 'Patience my Little Leaf; your old ada is not as young as you.' Thranduil said to his precious ion. 'How old are you, ada?' 'As old as the stars!' He answered, Legolas echoing him in their old game. Amber eyes watched them as they approached her position high above. The caramel colored feline looked fondly on the climbing pair, for she loved the smallest elf with the white-gold hair and shinning blue eyes. After all, he was very good to her—letting her have as much of his bed as she wanted, sleeping with her nose burrowed in his warm neck as he snuggled close and feeding her his fish under the table when his lovely mother wasn't looking. She slinked down lower and came to sit next to the four-year-old elfling and his father as they sang beautifully, sun streaming through the large leaves. 'Do you love me, Ada?' 'Yes, I love you, Legolas.' 'How much, Ada, how much?' 'More than life itself!' Legolas said along with the King of Eryn Lasgalen for this, too was part of the game they played, but the love and sentiment were real._

Legolas smiled happily, still in dreams, memories soothing him. The King and Legolas spent nearly the entire day climbing trees, singing and playing, dining on pilfered treats from the kitchens while Palace guards kept a discrete distance and the throne in the Great hall sat empty, dozens of citizens and visitors lining the walls—petitions ignored and forgotten. The Prince slumbered on, troubles held at bay—at least for a while.

The Prince from Gondor also dreamed, but his was not a dream of climbing trees and innocent play.

_He tasted honey as he nipped and licked the smooth skin beneath his questing lips and fingers, the taut flesh warm and trembling. 'Mmmm...sooo sweet,' Aragorn groaned. 'So very, very sweet!' The body under him arched off the ground as his teeth bit down painfully and pleasurably on an erect nipple, dark and pink, his hands holding the figure close to his own tanned frame. _

_As he traveled from one peak to the other, slender hands grazed the sides of his face before running through the man's dark, wavy hair, pulling his mouth closer to the toned chest. He suckled hard, ravishing the pebbled nub in his hot mouth, his fingers bruising as he fought to control the being in his arms and his rising passion that threatened to spiral out of control before he could claim the prize before him. _

_As the dúnadan released the peak, giving it one last swipe of his tongue, he moved up to capture perfect rose petal lips, parted and gasping. His tongue plunged deeply, forcing its way down the sweet throat; the delicate organ inside briefly fought the invasion, but was no match for the more experienced one determined to have its way. Sword-roughened hands carded through long silky tresses of pale gold, pulling the head back to gain further access as his tongue went impossibly deeper, nearly depriving the other of necessary air._

_Smaller male hands cupped his face, pushing him slightly away, breathing hard. Denied this prize, the man moved on and latched his mouth to the fragrant neck beneath the fall of soft hair where the shoulder and neck met. His hands also moved on, caressing smooth, firm sides, down to finely muscled hips and thighs, pushing the limbs apart as he put himself between them, causing the body under him pause before its trembling began anew._

_Aragorn's strong hands hooked under perfectly formed knees, pushing them back, exposing the tender flesh of his new lover's inner thighs and vulnerable nether region—nothing hidden from Gondorian's view. His bearded face rubbed against the delicate skin, cheeks and chin lightly abrading before lips and tongue tasted the virgin flesh._

_The scent of honey and warm cream assaulted his senses as his mouth nuzzled the elegant organs nestled between unblemished thighs, the pale shaft and hairless sacs a feast before the hungry male. Prince Aragorn had no trouble swallowing the slender column, firm and leaking. The slender body arched again, this time forcing the tumescence deeper as the warm cavern suckled roughly, drinking the fluid seeping from the inexperienced body, the rough tongue molding itself to the hard flesh as it reached its peak._

_The man was impossibly hard as he swallowed the last of the sweet nectar; he wanted—no—needed to find his release, too. Releasing the spent organ, he took the legs still held firmly in his grasp and forced them further apart, then draped each one over his shoulders. Taking his own swollen flesh in his hand, he rubbed his length with his emissions; parting the pale globes hovering above the grass-covered ground, he found the puckered entrance, hurriedly preparing it for him._

_The young body froze when one finger and then another pushed inside his tight entrance, fear replacing desire at the unfamiliar probing. A soft frightened voice cried, 'No!' As the digits went deeper, scissoring the opening further. _

'_Shhh, Lover; you are mine and I will have you,' The Crowned Prince said possessively as he gazed into frightened sea-blue eyes, animal passion ruling his normally considerate nature. Aragorn could wait no longer. He placed the large head of his swollen member to the small opening, pushing inside his lover's body._

_As he went deeper, the tight passage contracted in pain, small hands pushing against his chest ineffectually trying to force him out. Stopping briefly, the man whispered soothing words of regret before kissing the gasping mouth, salty tears mingling with its naturally sweet taste as his hand moved between their bodies, stroking his lover's fearful flesh, bringing it to arousal again._

_As the body before him began thrusting in his fist and the kiss deepened, Aragorn resumed his forward motion, the hot tunnel impossibly tight until he breached the guardian ring of muscle, becoming fully sheathed in the tight heat. A pained whimper reached his ears before being followed by a grunt of pleasure as he hit the tiny bundle of nerves inside the untried channel. Wanting to hear the latter sound again, he aimed and struck the spot over and over again, the body rising to meet him thrust for thrust before screaming out, the blond finding his release for the second time._

_The smaller frame bucked and writhe in pleasure, his entrance gripping the man almost painfully, milking the plunging shaft, undoing the Gondorian until he too reached his climax, hot fluids surrounding him inside the grasping body. He smiled, satisfied and sated; releasing the slender, pale thighs from his broad shoulders, Aragorn buried his nose in the silky hair of his dream lover, trembling when soft husky voice whispered 'Melin chen, Herven-nin...' _(I love you, my Husband)

Aragorn jumped as a hand shook him awake. He looked around disoriented as he looked into Éomer's apologetic hazel eyes. "I didn't mean to startle you, but you wanted to be awaken after two hours. I also thought you might wish to eat some stew, Your Highness."

"It is alright, My Lord. I...I was caught up in some dream." The Prince's body trembled as the dream fled, details escaping him, while the bliss remained. As the Rohirric Captain continued to stare concernedly, Aragorn swallowed nervously, praying that the erotic nature of his dream didn't show on his face, cheeks slightly pink.

As he stood up, his friend handed him a bowl of delicious-smelling stew. "Thank you." He smiled at Boromir who was taking small bites of food (Éomer threatened to force-feed him like a baby if he refused) before checking on his younger cousin; satisfied that he wasn't worse, he eat his own meal, surprised at how hungry he was and how good the food tasted. As he eat the last of it and sipping some fresh water, he tried to retrieve his passionate dream to no avail—recalling only tight warmth and the taste of honey.

The pleasant smell of simmering food pulled Legolas from his pleasant dreams, though he fought hard to remain in the comforting embrace of his adar. The call of his empty stomach and the noises from the real world won out over his heart's true desire and he slowly became aware of his surroundings, cerulean blue eyes refocusing. With a silent cry of sorrow, he accepted the grim truth that what he'd hoped was a nightmare was his reality.

The edain surrounding Legolas went back and forth before and around him; some carrying out their various duties and others eating, passing bowls of food one to another. The starving immortal stared longingly at the large pot simmering over a fire a few feet away form him, pink tongue licking his dry lips unconsciously.

One of the Gondoran rangers saw him and moved over to the elf, offering him a bowl. The young man, no more than sixteen or so, blushed when he remembered that the prisoner was still bound, hand and feet and placed the food down before moving in back to untie the Prince's hands.

Before he could however, one of the older men who stood guard over the wood-elf stopped him. "Walda, what are you about! You haven't been given leave to release the prisoner." It was Girion, the Royal Guard who nearly executed Legolas the day before.

"Sergeant—I only meant to feed him. I...I noticed that he has not been given anything since we've been here, Sir."

"You haven't been given leaveto _feed _him either!" Girion's hateful stare raked over the Elda before turning on the young trainee in anger. "Step away from him—_now!_"

The younger Gondorian did as his superior ordered, though he didn't understand, too young to have served with the rangers during Faramir's time among them. He knew of and respected the Steward's son, but even the vilest of prisoners were fed regardless of their crimes. "Sir, I do not understand; are we not to treat him as any other captive?"

"He isn't just any other captive—" The dark-haired sergeant was cut off as the Crowned Prince stood before them, having been alerted by another ranger who worried that things would escalate as they nearly did the previous day.

Both humans bowed respectfully as Aragorn approached. "Gentlemen—may I ask what is going on here?" The Prince waited for one of them to speak, the youngest eager to, but knowing that his subordinate position required him to yield to Girion; plus he was in awe of the King's only son. "Speak up."

"My Prince," Girion began. "Young Walda here overstepped his position and took it upon himself to untie the elf—"

Aragorn's eyes flew to the ranger-in-training in anger, not letting the older man finish before he questioned the boy coldly. "Do you court treason, boy? Just what were you planning?"

"Your Highness, I would never do such a thing! I only meant to give the elf food as we would any prisoner." The boy was nervous and fidgeted as he pointed at the bowl sitting next to Legolas—who was looking fearfully at the man Aragorn, remembering his own knife pressed to the elf's throat. "Please, My Lord; you must believe me."

"Girion, is this true?" Aragorn calmed somewhat.

"Aye, My Prince; but I informed Walda that he didn't have leave to do either." Girion threw another displeased look towards the youngster who was looking down in shame before the Gondoran Prince.

"While I understand your wish to care for the prisoner, you put yourself and others in danger. This elf may look harmless, but he is not! You should never unbind a captive unaided. You are in training and a subordinate; always gain permission before doing anything that does not fall within your normal duties. Initiative is greatly appreciated, but you made an error in judgment in this instance. Who is your mentor?"

"Eärendil, Prince Aragorn," The properly contrite boy continued to stare at his feet.

"Inform him of what transpired here and tell him that he is to assign a proper sanction for you and to instruct you in the chain of command. I suggest that you study hard as it may save your life or the lives of your comrades in the future."

"Yes, Your Highness." Walda bowed respectfully and went off to find his mentor.

"Sergeant, untie the prisoner. Although our young friend erred, he is correct in one instance; all Gondoran prisoners are treated humanely no matter how unworthy." Aragorn drew his dagger as Girion none-too-gently untied the blond's wrists.

When Legolas' cold, numb blood-deprived hands were freed, he cried out in pain as the blood flowed back in. As much as the man hated this elf that nearly killed his kinsman, the healer in him couldn't ignore a living being in pain. "What ails you elf," He asked harshly.

The Elven Prince was afraid to answer as he looked into the malevolent face of the human Prince. "Speak now or never—I haven't all day to waste on you!"

As he made to stand, Legolas spoke timidly in Sindarin, not used to the volatile natures of these edain and not trusting his knowledge of Westron. "I hurt, Ernilen (My Prince)."

Aragorn looked at the elf grimly before willing himself to assume the necessary dispassion. "Show me where," He inquired

When Elven captive brought forth his unbound wrists, Aragorn breathed in sharply as he saw the dried and fresh blood (Faramir's and the elf's own) on the pale hands and wrists before him. The outraged kinsman warred with the compassionate physician and, though he asked a nearby ranger to fetch his healer's bag with the necessary tools and herbs, the enraged was dominating his emotions.

The ranger brought over the satchel and a bowl of clean water and rough soap used by the soldiers in the wild and handed it to Aragorn who indicated to the wood-elf that he should soak, then wash his hands, not willing to touch him until necessary. Taking a cloth, he handed that to the elf, too, to dry off; then he uncorked a jar of slave and rubbed a generous amount of the medicinal cream on the raw wounds on both wrists. After wrapping bandages around the slender limbs, the man asked Legolas if there were any other injuries, thinking that Faramir would have defended himself well before being felled by the Elda.

Legolas pointed to his ribcage. "It pains me—I hurt them when I fell (Legolas meaning when he went over the cliff and Aragorn thinking when he knocked the elf to the ground). When the man placed his hands to the area, the elf flinched, prompting him to ask the elf to lift off his tunic.

When blond had trouble taking off the garment, the man helped, then indicated that he should unbutton his shirt as well. Aragorn checked the immortal back and forth, examining the bruised flesh, becoming uncomfortable without knowing why. "Lean back so that I may wrap your ribs." He unrolled a large amount of cloth that he pulled from his pack; after this, he rubbed some of the medicinal cream on the tender areas, his fingers moving efficiently, eager to finish this task so he could get away from his new patient.

Legolas waited, watching the handsome adan as he tended his injuries; his wrists barely hurt and his ribcage was feeling better, though he still ached. When the man had finished anointing his chest and back with the colorless ointment, he reached around the elf to start wrapping the bandage to bind him so that the bones would have the best chance to mend.

Aragorn froze as the as honey and warm cream assaulted his senses, his eyes flying up to stare into the sea-blue eyes of the stunning elf under him. He backed away as if stung, blue-green eyes wide and confused.

Concerned that the elf had done something, Girion pulled his dagger, ready to defend his Prince. Aragorn caught the movement and waved him back, convincing himself that he was merely over-tired, having gotten only a few hours rest. Regaining his composure, he quickly wrapped the prisoner and instructed the guard to bind the elf with his hands forwards to allow his ribs time to heal properly.

Handing Legolas the now-cold bowl of stew, the Gondoran Prince left to go check on Faramir. Throwing one final glance over his shoulder at the blond, Aragorn frowned deeply. His hostility towards the elf grew—both for his known crime and for something unnamed offence that the dúnadan couldn't define.

The bewilderment followed him all the day—just at the back of his consciousness, his eyes moving often to the elf's position. He was so tired and weary, but he dared not sleep again for Faramir needed him—_at_ _least_ that is what he let himself believe.

Oropher and his contingent of Mirkwood elves returned to the base camp. He located his brother Arminas who was sitting near their campfire, his face bleak with worry. No one had found any sign of Legolas since the very first day that he disappeared during the battle with the Yrchs; and this was the fourth night that the young Prince had been on his own—provided that he still lived.

When the fighting was done, Arminas had returned to the tree where he'd sent Legolas, but was unable to see him and the young one never answered his repeated calls. It was then that one of the Silvans told both brothers that he'd seen the Sindar fighting on the ground near a fallen elf, but he lost sight of him when he himself was engaged by two orcs. A frantic search began in earnest and all available wood-elves who weren't seriously injured or tending them set about locating their lost Prince.

After the immediate area was searched, they moved out in all directions, leaving no place unexplored. When Oropher's personal guard found a ripped piece of green cloth snagged on a bush, he called out to the King's sons, the three of them discovering a cliff nearby. Fearing the worse, but not giving up, a plan was quickly formulated to send a group to explore the gorge.

It took hours and all had nearly despaired until Legolas' broken bow and a few scattered arrows were found. When one pearl-handled long knife was discovered just before nightfall, Thranduil's sons were relieved, now convinced that their tôr dithen (younger brother) was indeed alive for no body or significant amount of blood was found. They all were cheered by this belief for the first two days, but by the third day, fear returned; and now, here they were waiting for the other search groups to report in, hoping against hope that Legolas would be among them.

"Has the group assigned to contact Lothlórien returned yet?" Oropher asked his brother who stared dully into the fire before him. Looking closer at the elf, the eldest asked him again, but knelt down next to Arminas when he remained silent except for the soft keening noises he uttered. "Arminas, Muindor-nin (my Brother)—you need to calm yourself; Legolas will need us at our best when we find him."

"_If_ we find him," Came out as a sob followed closely by copious tears flowing from emerald-green eyes. "It is my fault...it is _all_ my fault! I convinced Ada to let him come; I went to him and told him that Legolas would be fine—that he could defend himself if needed and that _I_ would personally see to it that he's safe. _Safe,_" He laughed humorlessly. "Adar trusted me and took me at my word and now I've failed him and Little Leaf."

Oropher held his brother close as the tears continued to fall. "We both were to look after him; Ada trusted me, too, but we can not give up. Legolas is still alive—I know it in my heart and you must believe, also." As he rocked the younger Thranduilion, a large group of elves entered the camp.

As the Crowned Prince of Mirkwood looked up over the shoulder of the sobbing elf, he stared into the handsome face of an old friend. Smiling, he said in a relieved voice, "Haldir—Thank Elbereth that you've come!"

TBC

Please review

A/N: I'd like to thank all of you out there who have been reading and reviewing—your kind words mean so much. To those anonymous reviewers (or ones without emails listed) who have not received a response at the archive's site, please check at my main LJ. Also, to those of you who have been reading 'Revelations,' the final chapter is half finished—I don't want to rush it, so it will take a bit longer. Our Boys deserve the best send-off.


	4. Chapter 4 'Wise Counsel'

Another's Guilt by Númenora

Rating: M, PG this chapter

Disclaimers and Summary: See chapter one.

Warnings: Remember, this is slash; AU, Mpreg. Un-betaed, all mistakes are mine.

A/N: The Great Plague which occurred in SA 1636-37 and the Fell Winter of T.A. 2911–2912 and the great floods came from snow and ice meltwater that followed (rushing down Gwathló and ruining the city of Tharbad; this caused the people of Enedwaith to suffer greatly as their lands were flooded), will be changed to centuries after Last Alliance (SA 3434) to explain some elements. And since this is AU, many of the particulars will also be changed such as who was affected most by them; also, I will take liberties with the lay of Middle-earth, especially the Misty Mountains; we will pretend that they don't separate Eregion (former Elven land) from Eriador—so don't be too concerned about that. This will be necessary to explain how Legolas managed to enter the realm of men without having to cross it.

Please re-read Chapter One's A/N's concerning the background of this fic, especially the life-span of the Dúnedains or Númenóreans. I apologize for the altered history lesson here and the ones up-coming in this chapter (and future ones)—sometimes these can seem more dry than entertaining, but they are necessary.

I had to re-upload this due to my scene breaks didn't transfer last time, so I labeled the breaks between scenes where it switches from Gondoran toElven camps (there should be three breaks altogether, but the last one is not really necessary).

Thoughts and stressed words denoted by _Italics_

Chapter Four

"Wise Counsel"

Haldir gave some final instructions to the group of elves standing before him before he sent them off to search again. It was day six of the Prince's disappearance and morale was truly low—especially with Thranduil's middle son, Arminas, who was still blaming himself exclusively. Haldir and Oropher were very attentive to him and kept the young elf busy, which seemed to help during daylight hours; but as night fell, his distress increased and was heartbreaking to watch. Both elder elves feared that if Legolas was not found, Arminas would fade and King Thranduil would lose two of his ions. Haldir was determined that that would not happen—not while he still drew breath!

As Oropher approached him, Haldir noticed the weary look upon his friend's handsome face. The normally tireless elf was exhausted—between searching for Legolas during the day and watching over Arminas as he slept fitfully during the night, he was near to collapse.

"Please rest, Mellon-nin; you can not keep to this pace you have set for yourself." The Marchwarden pleaded.

"I will rest when Legolas is found or when I'm in Mandos' Hall—whichever comes first," Was his macabre response.

"If you continue this way, you will surely see Námo before you can gaze upon Greenleaf's perfect face again." Haldir felt near to tears as he realized the truth of this statement, so he was loath to say what had been on his mind, but thought it best to say it nonetheless. "I think that we should consider that Legolas is..." He paused at horrified look on the face of the other.

"He is not dead, Haldir—do not say that!" Oropher was panicking for this very fear was on his mind.

Calmly, the Lórien elf pulled the Prince into his arms, holding him tightly. "I was not going to say that, Penneth (young one); I was going to say that perhaps our Legolas was among the Edain. He is neither in nor near Lothlórien; nor has any fresh sign of him been found heading back towards Greenwood. The only other place he could be is with Men." He rubbed the trembling back of the sobbing Prince as he slowly began to calm down.

"I am sorry, Gwador (Sworn Brother). I have considered this; but Legolas knows to stay clear of our once allies—Men being untrustworthy. He would not go willingly with them." The Prince let his own words sink in, not truly believing them and liking the alternative not at all.

"He may be injured from his fall. Perhaps...perhaps he is being cared for, but is unable to tell his rescuers where he is from or who he is, even." Haldir was grasping at straws, trying to keep his friend and himself from believing the worst which he refused to even think about.

"You are a wonder to be around; only you can make me feel better in a near hopeless situation." As they moved to sit beneath an oak tree, Oropher began staring at it, "I wish that all this had happened closer to Greenwood; this area is so close to the realm of the Edain—these trees so young, that they know so little of us. Only the ancient oak that dwelled in the gorge where we found Legolas' broken bow and arrows knew of the Firstborn. The others were useless—speaking of a pretty boy who slept near! They could have been talking of some mortal, for all we know."

"It will be fine—you will see. The scouts that we sent beyond the gorge know to look for any signs that may lead to our Greenleaf; they must go slowly—to stay clear of the humans." Haldir tucked an errant strand of golden hair behind the Crowned Prince's ear, leaving his hand on the broad shoulder in comfort.

Green eyes clouded over in distress. "That area...Eregion and beyond in Eriador...is little more than plains and bare land; there are hardly any trees at all. The trees that are there are so young, some no more than one hundred years! Legolas loves trees...climbing them...talking to them..." He grew quiet.

"It was the Great Plague; I was just an elfling when it happened. I remember asking my father where all the trees were when we traveled to Gondor. He told me that the people of Eriador—Enedwaith and Minhiriath—also Isengard and parts of Rohan burned the trees to stop the spread of the disease; using them to burn the dead, their homes, animals. Only Fangorn was spared for fear of the Ents there. It must have worked, Ada said, for Gondor suffered very little loss of life—at least those of Númenórean descent. The other shorter-lived mortals were not so blessed.

"Gondor, with elven healers, were able to tend the sick and eventually, they began to recover; but, then a harsh winter followed that caused great flooding when the spring thaw came, bringing more devastation. Men were very slow to replenish the land which lay bare for centuries until King Argonui and his son Arador after him decreed that trees be planted and the lands between Gondor and Eriador be settled. That is why so few ancients still live; I remember crying about it for months...for years afterwards. It still saddens me, but especially now when they could be of some help in finding Legolas." Haldir grew as quiet as Oropher.

It was the Prince's time to comfort and he smiled at his friend, pledging that no matter what, "We will find Little Leaf—whole and hale."

**_At the Gondoran Camp..._**

Lord Marach, Senior Minister of the Arts of Healing, watched Prince Aragorn; his young protégé seemed not himself and the elder healer was deeply concerned. He and his escorts had met up with the slow-moving party transporting the injured Lord Faramir last evening before dark. His concern had nothing to do with Aragorn's care of the young Diplomat—the Prince's skill was exemplary, his natural talent had few rivals. His apprehension lay with Prince's state of mind and his behavior towards the Elven prisoner.

His favorite student was usually a very kind and thoughtful soul, having the best bedside manner of any healer that Marach had had the fortune to work with in his 200 years as a man of medicine. If Aragorn had not been heir to the Gondoran throne, his career—his calling—would be in medicine. The only other person with whom the Minister had worked alongside that inspired this level of admiration was Lord Elrond of Rivendell—Marach having spent time in Imladris as a very young man and again much later when relations between Gondor and the Elven Realm seemed to be headed towards renewal (but that abruptly halted without explanation).

He would speak with him and then he would check on the elf regardless of Aragorn's wishes—Marach was a healer first and a citizen of Gondor second. He took one last look towards the prisoner leaning with his face against an elm, mouth silently moving and eyes closed as in prayer; then he went to stoop next to the patient, across from Aragorn.

"How is he, my Prince?" Boromir made room for the healer, sitting nearer to his brother's head, Éomer standing near, keeping his vigil.

"He is much the same, Lord Marach. I would love to have him in the Houses of Healing back in Rohan or Gondor instead of out here in the wilds. Even the infirmary at the outpost in Eregion would be preferable. His fever has lessened, but not as low as I'd like; each time he wakes, his pain is so great, that I must sedate again—especially when we must travel." He paused as his emotions escalated. "I am so...this should never have happened!" His fiery glance swept towards Legolas.

"We can not change what happened, but we can heal our young charge; you have done excellent work and I have every confidence that Faramir will recover." Reaching over to grasp Aragorn's wrist, he said with feeling, "I could not have done more—you should be proud!"

"Thank you, my Lord." Aragorn's face lightened as his mentor's words sank in, but soon hardened at his next statement.

"I'd like to examine the Elven prisoner; I noticed that his bandages are bloody and soiled with dirt." The words were said quietly and even, but the Prince didn't miss the censure in them.

"The elf is fine." The young Prince said tightly. "His kind heals quickly—I will waste no more of my time on him!"

Not deterred, the healer continued as the other Nobles listened. "You said that the elf was injured during your first encounter with him; that was over two days ago and he still bleeds. If he were healed, then the bandages should have been removed and even if they had not been, the stains should be nearly black and not red as they are—you know this, Your Highness."

Blue-green eyes met the gray of elder dúnadan unwaveringly, "So?" He said coolly, though his inner-self warred with conflicting emotions; his normal compassionate personality conflicting with a fear of some sort—but fear of what, he did not want to examine too closely.

"So, he either is being ignored or deliberately mistreated—which are one in the same thing. I have taught you better than that; this is not you. What troubles you so, Aragorn? You have treated prisoners before; some were unrepentant and quite vile, but you treated them with the proper dispassion of a skilled healer. Why is this elf different—though I think I can guess?" Lord Marach said the last with understanding, willing the younger man to see reason.

The young dúnadan's words came out angrily, laced with sarcasm, "You know nothing of it and you overstep your boundaries, Lord Marach! _I_, not you, am Crowned Prince here and I will not be criticized by one of my _loyal_ subjects!" Aragorn stood up, caring not at all at how unreasonable he was being; he had no wish to pursue this conversation further for fear of where it may lead.

Marach stood as well, saying, "I will treat his injuries, Your Highness and if you wish, you can have me arrested for my disloyalty; but I ask that you delay that until after I have finished my work."

Aragorn turned back to the Senior Minister and sounding like a lost little boy, said, "Do as you wish—I care not," Then continued walking away towards the woods, a guard following.

Lord Marach was not pleased with how this exchange with his former student went; he planned to pursue it later when the younger man calmed himself. But now, he had another patient to care for; so he headed towards the blond Elda.

As Senior Minister of Healing, a position granted him by King Arador, King Arathorn's father, one of his duties was overseeing the management of the Houses of Healing all over the Gondor and the United Kingdoms which included Osgiliath, Ithilien, Dol Amroth, Isengard, Rohan and the various outposts and settlements in Eriador and the valleys surrounding Mordor.

He never cared for the idea of a government post or becoming a bureaucrat—preferring to care for the sick and keeping the healthy well. But, the late King was persistent, convincing him that he could do more for medicine and keep more people alive by taking on this post. He could personally see to it that healers everywhere operated according to his standards. Today, he and his staff of ten (personally trained by him) travel all over for weeks and months at a time.

It was hard work—often thankless or more often, boring in places without patients like Outpost 40 where he was when the message to come here came—but very necessary; he continued to thank Elbereth that he had been there because of Lord Faramir and especially for this poor elf. There weren't very many Men who had knowledge of Elven physiology; he only knew of two—himself and King Arathorn II, both having spent time in Imladris studying the Elven Art of Healing.

He could tell by looking, that the young elf was not faring as he should; he may even be fading. Lord Marach prayed that this was not so. Gathering his supplies from his belongings near where he had slept, he continued his previous path.

Legolas' silent song stopped as a shadow passed over him, causing his eyes to open fearfully. He never knew what to expect with these mortals; they haven't beaten or tortured him physically, though he have been shoved roughly, falling down several times during their trek to wherever they were headed. His hands were kept bound and his feet were hobbled, ropes tied in such a way to allow him enough slack to walk, but not enough to run or to climb trees.

His wrists and his ribs were hurting again—becoming aggravated whenever he fell wrong; and he had several more bruises and abrasions from the same. Whenever someone remembered to feed him, he had little more than stale bread, but he was grateful for the clean water—sometimes fresh whenever they neared a stream or wine-treated to stave off staleness when they were not. He didn't know what would become of him and he'd lost hope that his brothers would find him—not knowing to look for him among Men.

_Perhaps they think you are dead and have given up looking for you. Oh please, kind elm—tell your brethren to send out word to my fellow woodelves of Eryn Lasgalen where to find me; I do not wish to die here among these unfriendly people _Legolas had been hearing what these Men thought about what would happen to him—execution if the young human died or imprisonment if he lives. He prayed that Faramir would live to exonerate him, but the blond Prince couldn't place his hopes on someone who may or may not absolve the elf of any wrong-doing.

These Edain cared nothing for him; his only chance was rescue by his own kind or escape—neither of which seemed likely. As he stared up at the gray-haired mortal standing above him, he braced himself for the worst.

Lord Marach saw the fear in the elf's lovely blue eyes, though he put up a brave front, refusing to look away. The healer smiled in a benevolent manner, one he used to calm apprehensive patients. "My name is Lord Marach; I am a healer from Gondor. May I ask your name?" He inquired gently.

Legolas was surprised to hear this man speak in Sindarin; the only one here who seems to know his native tongue was the angry dark-haired Prince called Aragorn who rarely spoke to him except in short, clipped words uttered in anger. Although this man seemed friendly, Legolas didn't answer him, waiting to see what he would do next.

The Lord carefully kneeled next to the young elf and instead of asking his name again, he unpacked his bag, laying salves and bandages on a piece of cloth to keep them clean. Next, he took his waterskin and poured fresh water into a wide, deep bowl, lacing it with pleasantly fragrant oil—the scent of it was familiar to the blond Prince.

"Asëa aranion?"¹ Legolas asked quietly.

"Yes, Mellon-nin. Asëa aranion or athelas; we also call it kingsfoil in Westron. Do you speak Westron?" At the Prince's nod, he spoke again. "Well, we will continue on in Sindarin, if that is alright with you?" When the elf didn't answer, he asked the guard standing to the side of the prisoner, "I need these ropes removed—the ones on his wrists and his ankles."

"That is not allowed, my Lord Marach. The elf can not be totally unbound—he is quite dangerous." The lieutenant said firmly, but respectfully.

"I can not tend his wounds so bound." At the obstinate look on the younger Gondoran's face, he relented somewhat. "Then untie his hands so that I can tend them and then, you can release his feet." Then to Legolas, "How are your ribs?"

"They still hurt." He froze briefly while the armed man untied his hands. Then when he moved away, he spoke as the healer removed his soiled bandages, "Legolas..." Lord Marach looked askance to him. "My name...I am called Legolas."

"I am pleased to meet you, Greenleaf," Lord Marach placed his clasped hand against his heart in Elven greeting.

Legolas did the same, smiling disarmingly. "That is what my adar and brothers call me—sometimes it's 'Little Leaf.'"

"Where are your adar and brothers—in Greenwood?" The elf's smile disappeared and he grew quiet again. The healer knew that it would take time to gain Legolas' trust.

He cleaned the raw wounds and applied a heavy coating of the kingsfoil salve, wrapping the wrists with a double bandage to help protect them from the rough, mithril lined ropes. Next, he removed the soiled tunic and shirt to examine the elf's ribcage. There were black and blue and yellowish bruises back and front.

The healer exhaled an angry breath—_Aragorn knows better than this! A healer never lets his personal feeling interfere with his oath as a man of medicine._ Marach reined in his temper, remembering that the Prince was still little more than a child—especially in this matter, his emotional scars running deep. Turning his attention back to Legolas, he carefully cleaned away the old salve and replaced it with a new coating before re-wrapping the Elda's chest.

"Your clothing is very dirty; you must be beside yourself, not being able to bath, um?" He remembered the elves of Rivendell, especially Lord Elrond's twins and how fond of cleanliness they were. He could only imagine that woodelves would be even more so.

Legolas' smile was back. All of his family loved the water, but he was extremely partial to it; so much so that his own brothers teased him relentlessly about it.

"Why don't I take these and put them in with my things and I will lend you one of mine—well, not actually my own, but I brought some clean shirts so that Lord Faramir would have something sanitary to wear." At the sad, sympathetic look on Legolas' face, the kindly healer patted one pale shoulder gently. "He will recover—have no fear."

Legolas let Lord Marach help him put on the plain-weave garment, tying the laces at the neck. "It's not much to look at, but it is well-made and will stave off the cold at night. I know that elves don't normally feel the cold, but you are injured and that changes things."

After the wrist bonds were replaced, the ones on the ankles were removed, the healer examining them after the light boots were taken off. The Minister was pleased to see that no open wounds were present, though there were bruises, on which he put a light coating of ointment.

They were quiet for a time until Legolas' curiosity got the better of him. "Where did you learn Elvish, Hir-nin?"

"Rivendell, though Elvish remains a part of every noble's basic educational instruction, though personally know only a tiny few who speak it fluently. My father's family has always been fascinated by elves—his ancestors remained close to the Firstborn even after our peoples drifted apart. I can remember sitting on my great-grandfather's knee as he spoke about his visit to the Golden Wood with his grandfather at the age of 10 years. Needless to say, he fell in love with Lady Galadriel."

He finished treating the bruises on the otherwise perfectly formed ankles. "There...I suggest that you leave off your boots for a while until it is time to leave or unless your feet gets cold."

"Hannon le, Hir-nin; you have been most kind." Legolas was quiet for a while as the healer re-packed his bag. "I didn't hurt him...I...I tried to help, but I was too late." He looked up into the healer's eyes before he continued, "I wish that I had stayed home as my adar wanted me to do; but I wanted to see some of this world. Should I live to see him again, I will apologize for not heeding his wisdom and I shall never leave his side again."

Lord Marach watched as crystal tears fell from impossibly beautiful cerulean eyes. He took a clean cloth, wetted it and handed it to Legolas who washed his grimy face. "I believe you, Little Leaf and I will not let you come to real harm. I do not know how old you are, but I can tell that you are little more than a child—am I correct?"

"I am not a child! I am 700½-years-old." He blushed at the knowing look from Lord Marach. He asked the healer a question, "You are Dúnedain?"

"Yes; from an unbroken line."

"Then you are blessed with long life." The healer saw something that none of his people here had or may ever see—Legolas' sense of humor and playful nature. "How old are _you_?" He asked impishly.

"Both younger and much older than you!" He laughed quietly, then he became serious for a moment. "Sometimes I feel quite old—much older than my 346 years. When I see injustice and the innocent suffer and am unable to prevent it; but that will not happen here." He patted Legolas' shoulder again, "This I promise you, Mellon-nin—this I promise."

Legolas watched as he stood to leave and spoke with authority to the guard standing over him. "I want him feed properly; when you or the other guards take food and drink, you will feed him first and give him the same as you would give to me or any other here. I'm I understood?"

"Yes, Lord Marach! It will be done." The young man answered.

With one last look at the young elf, Lord Marach went to check on Faramir with the intent to find Prince Aragorn afterwards.

He didn't know it, but Aragorn had returned to camp for a time and watched his exchange with Legolas. He was angry at first and then he began to feel guilty that he had failed in his duties as a healer. His father, grandfather and every other King before as well as all Royal family members studied the healing arts since the very first King, Tar-Minyatar who was born Elros, the Noldo elf who chose the Gift of Men.

His guilt continued to mount when he noticed how bad the elf's wounds were; but then he grew angry again when he saw the blond smile at his mentor, not really knowing why. He told himself that his teacher went too far acting friendly towards the Faramir's attacker. But as he continued to watch, he felt himself become jealous when the elf smiled teasingly at Lord Marach and the healer laughed.

Why would he be jealous? Lord Marach was his teacher and...

Aragorn was totally confused and he walked away again, re-entering the wooded area beyond the camp. His personal guard watched in sympathy as his young charge struggled with his feelings. As the Prince returned to the forest, he followed dutifully.

_**In the ElvenCamp far away...**_

"Prince Oropher...Hir Haldir!" A Lórien elf called out excitedly.

Haldir and the Prince stood as the Silvan ran towards them, closely followed by several others just as excited.

"Calm yourself and speak," Haldir instructed.

"We've found something, my Lord...something that may lead us to Prince Legolas!"

TBC

¹ Asëa aranion—Quenyan for athelas.

A/N: Sorry for the long delay of an update; I wanted to finish 'Revelations' first (which I did) and I also had a couple projects to finish. I also joined a few LotR communities at where I have been posting my fiction (some new drabbles as well as one Aragorn/Boromir drabble/fic called 'Golden Mist': aragornlegolas, blackforestfps (which I joined a while back, tolkien100, tolkienweekly. I will update again as soon as possible. 'Golden Mist' can be found at my homepage, Aniron, Mirrormere and Lord of the Rings Fanfiction (all links can be found at my homepage The Prince & The Heir (link under my profile here at I haven't posted it at because it is rated MA/NC-17.

To everyone who have been reviewing my stories, I want to thank you all for all the kind words and to the anonymous reviewers w/o emails listed like at and others that don't allow author's responses on site, look for replies at my livejournal (just give me a couple or three days).


	5. Chapter 5 'Hidden Truths'

Another's Guilt, by Númenora

Rating NC-17, PG this chapter

Disclaimers and Summary: See chapter one.

Warnings: Remember, this is slash; AU (many things will be different), Mpreg, OOC (Aragorn mostly). Un-betaed, all mistakes are mine.

A/N: Please re-read notes in chapter one concerning character's ages and relationships since this is AU and they are different from Book or Movie-verse. My apologies to you all for the large author's notes and for the long narratives on background information that will come in this chapter, but they are important for this and upcoming chapters. I will be mentioning Théodred in this chapter; his age will be set at 23 years, between Boromir, Éomer and Aragorn's ages and Éowyn will be 18 years, though less than a year younger than Faramir.

The older nobles/royals will be mentioned as well. King Arathorn is the youngest child of Arador—very young by Númenórean age at 60 years in this fic (like elves, parents can appear as young as children); his sister Finduilas (Boromir and Faramir's mother) was the oldest child—30 years older than he. For this fic, Denethor will be much older than Finduilas who was his second wife (the first wife died in a riding accident when he was still a young man); his age will be 200 (equal to 40 normal years). The reasons why Denethor treats Faramir so shabbily will be revealed (all AU) as well as insight into Boromir's relationship to his little brother and his over-protectiveness concerning him.

Getting back to Númenórean age: I will equate it with what Tolkien once wrote about Elves—saying that Elves and Men develop physically at the same rate until maturity, but then Elven bodies slow down and stop aging physically, while human bodies don't (which contradicted what he had previously written in _Laws and Customs _). That being said, Dúnedain mortals age normally until they reach their Majority which will be 21 years and then their aging slows down. I did a little research and based on some LotR characters who died of natural causes (like Éomer who lived to be 93), I will set a normal lifespan, barring illness or injury, to be 100 years; which would make a child of Númenórean descent's normal lifespan around 500 years as Elros' was. So, for every 100 years, a Dúnadan would age 20 years.

Thoughts and stressed words are denoted by Italics

Chapter Five

"Hidden Truths"

Boromir watched as Lord Marach left Faramir's side to go in search of Prince Aragorn. The Steward's eldest was very relieved, for the healer had announced that his brother's fever had lessened though was still weak. As the older man disappeared through the trees, Boromir looked over towards the elf, pondering on the scene that he'd witnessed of the exchange between the healer and the Elda.

When the elf was conversing with Lord Marach, Boromir thought back to what Éomer had said that first day concerning the immortal—he did seem young and fragile and not capable of attacking Faramir so viciously. He looked carefree for a short time in Lord Marach's presence, smiling at something the man had said. The more he thought on it, the more he felt that something was not right in the entire situation.

As Faramir continued to improve the last day or so, Boromir allowed himself time to think on the situation; like, why his brother was traveling alone and what happened to his horse and weapons. They weren't found with the elf, so perhaps something had happened to him before he met up with the blond that made him vulnerable, giving the immortal the upper hand. These things he had no way of knowing—not until his brother awakened long enough to tell them.

"Please wake, Little One; the Princes Band needs its mascot." Boromir smiled at that; it was the name that King Théoden had given them—though sometimes he changed it to the King's _Bane_!

This 'band' consisted of Aragorn, Théodred, Boromir, Faramir and Éomer. Though he, Faramir and Éomer weren't called singly by that title (being called Steward Prince, Lord or their military rank; or in Éomer's and Théodred's cases, Marshal), they all were Princes; Éomer's mother, Théodwyn was King Théoden's sister and Boromir and Faramir's mother, Finduilas was King Arathorn's sister.

King Théoden (and the people of Edoras after him) dubbed them the Princes Band because whenever the five of them were together in Rohan, they were inseparable, laughing and talking at the top of their voices and acting like little boys (or 'troublesome orcs' according to Éowyn). Whenever they became too 'troublesome,' the King would threaten to banish them to the Glittering Caves of Helm's Deep, but usually ended up expelling them from the Golden Hall to the Family Wing—namely, the old nursery (where 'little boys' belonged), now converted to a gathering room for the adult children and their friends after Éowyn came of age.

The King would scowl and sputter at them, but Boromir and the others would see him smile fondly at their antics when he thought no one was looking. Neither Boromir nor the other Princes knew that Théoden and his friends behaved pretty much the same (or worse) when he was young and he didn't begrudge them their time of revelry, for he knew these times wouldn't last forever—especially for Théodred and Éomer who weren't of Númenórean descent. Their duties even now kept the friends apart at longer stretches of time every year and much too soon, they would all be mired by Affairs of State.

When Boromir recalled the time that they named Faramir as their mascot, he laughed silently. The young man had just turned 16 and was now allowed to drink ale (in public at least, having had his first taste when he was in training with the Rangers at the age of 14) and began to participate in their various games like the Rohirrim drinking competition and their adapted version of the card game 'Diamonds and Hearts.' In this, they would follow each highest and lowest hand by drinking a full tankard of ale and removing one article of clothing—the object of the game was to remain sober and clothed by achieving a level of mediocrity.

During the drinking game, Faramir was able to out drink Aragorn and though he lost overall, he gained the respect of the others and was inducted officially into their group, receiving the title of mascot—succeeding Aragorn, who previously held it as the youngest member. After speeches were made (slurred and nonsensical), the whole group fell upon Faramir, hugging and kissing him and then stripping him bare (they often ended up unclothed whenever drinking was involved) and parading him around the Golden Hall.

Those times spent in Rohan with their little group were special for them all, but Boromir was especially grateful because during those times, Faramir was always smiling and happy and he felt so much love—love not tainted by their father's disapproval and harsh words.

Boromir always tried to lavish his younger brother with his love even from a very young age. Faramir was little more than a baby when their mother Finduilas died. She had been ill from the time of her second pregnancy; a pregnancy where she miscarried during her sixth month. She had been out in the Houses of Healing helping to tend some injured citizens who were badly burned in a fire. One of the men had become delirious and his wife was having trouble calming him due to his high fever.

Prince Arathorn and King Arador were in another room where the couple's two children were. One (the only son who was 12) was resting comfortably, having received the least severe burns; but the smallest was a 6-year-old girl who had gone back inside the house when she discovered that her pet was still missing and was caught in the worst of the fire. Her father managed to rescue her, but they were both badly burned and the Prince and King were desperately trying to save her. Arador had worked on the father and he seemed to be responding well to treatment so he left to aid his son with the child, leaving Finduilas to monitor him (she had refused to leave even though she had been there the entire time).

When the man became feverous, she used all her healing skills to try and bring down his temperature, but she was not able to, so she tried to go fetch her father, but the man latched onto her in his delirium, screaming for his daughter—saying that she was still inside of the burning house. When she attempted to assure him that the child was safely in the other room, he accused her of lying—saying that he had to save her then he shoved Finduilas roughly away, causing the Princess to fall hard onto the stone floor face down.

One of the other healers had been across the room tending to another patient who been injured in an unrelated incident when the man first started yelling, but he was unable to reach them before she fell. When he got there, Ioreth was helping her up; Finduilas assured him that she was fine. He was dubious, but the sick man was still trying to get away from the several pair of hands that was now holding him down. It took a while to sedate him—a father's worry was stronger than drugs—but he was finally calmed.

That night turned out to be one of great tragedies. The first came when the little girl Elen, whose name means 'Star', succumbed to her injuries and died in Prince Arathorn's arms. Her mother was inconsolable and fainted when she received the news (the father was kept sedated and didn't learn of it for nearly a fortnight). The second tragedy came a few hours later when Finduilas collapsed in pain; she was still in the Houses looking after the distraught mother.

Her father and brother came to her aid and they gave her herbs that were used to stop premature labor; it worked for a time, but she started to have contractions again. When her pains first started, Lord Denethor was summoned and he was by her side as they began again and just before dawn, she delivered; but the child (a girl) was born dead and Finduilas was never the same emotionally and physically, having to remain in bed for several weeks and missing the baby's funeral.

Lord Marach had returned to Minas Tirith a few days after it first happened and he, along with King Arador, told her that she should not attempt to have any more children; to do so would seriously endanger her life. She was saddened by the news which only added to her grief over losing her daughter. Denethor told her that they would be content with having one child, but less than five years later, she became pregnant with Faramir after becoming enamored of the adorable infant Aragorn.

Arador was livid and he blamed his Steward and son-in-law for letting it happen. Denethor was much older than the Princess and the King had been reluctant to approve of a marriage between them; but Finduilas loved him despite the age gap and he adored her. She told her father that it was her doing—that she had wanted another child.

As she got further along in her pregnancy, the men in her life became more worried by the day. Lord Marach was asked to stay in the White City to look after her. When she began having problems, Finduilas was put on total bed-rest. The Steward could see that his wife was weakened by her condition and his guilt for his part grew as well as a great resentment for the innocent child she carried—a resentment that made it impossible to rejoice at the birth of this healthy, beautiful boy that Finduilas adored.

Though he was only six, Boromir remembered the first time he saw Faramir; he was small and pink with tiny wisps of red curls and beautiful eyes of violet; later when he began to grow, Boromir, began thinking of him as _his _baby. Even at his young age, Boromir knew that Denethor didn't want Faramir and the man only held him at Finduilas' insistence.

She passed from Arda during the harsh winter when Faramir was 4-years-old; it was during the night and her family had no warning as she appeared stronger than ever and had been joyous that evening at dinner. Later that night in the nursery, Boromir was awakened to distraught cries from Faramir. The little boy kept crying for his mother saying that she was gone away, over and over again.

He was desperately trying to calm him, saying that all was fine; but the child would not be consoled. So, the blond boy led the other to their parents' room, but was barred from entering. Finally, Lady Gilraen came out to speak to him and Faramir, attempting to usher them back to bed, but the 4-year-old would not budge. Then King Arador came out to them looking as sad and lost as Faramir did.

When the little child started repeating his earlier exclamations about his mother, their grandfather said, 'Yes, Little One, she has gone to be with the Angels.' Boromir cried for his mother and he cried for himself, but mostly he cried for Faramir; for he only had one parent—one who cared nothing for him.

Boromir blinked away tears as he caressed his brother's cheek, the memories still too painful. "You will always have me, Faramir; for as long as I draw breath!" Boromir spoke quietly, but with feeling.

As he continued to touch his brother, the young man stirred, moving his cheek into Boromir's hand. Soon, the older brother was staring into beautiful violet eyes that were no longer as pain-filled as the last time he'd seen them.

"Little One? Oh, may the Valar be praised!" Boromir was beside himself with relief.

A very weakened, but amused voice said, "I have not been little for a long time, _Big _Brother. I...I had hoped...that all...that all had been...a very..." He closed his eyes for moment as it was difficult to speak.

"Don't speak, my Love—I know what you would say. I am so relieved; I thought..." Now it was Boromir's time to pause, a cry caught in his throat. "I feared that I would lose you."

"Never! It would take more than...than ruthless...thieves to...stop me..." Faramir said humorously, eyes beginning to close again, but his brother spoke.

"Thieves, Faramir? How many were there? Try and stay with me, Little Brother."

The red-haired man murmured, "Two...Were two...them." Then he drifted off.

Boromir frowned as he pondered Faramir's words. _Thieves? I wonder... _His thoughts were cut off as the young man spoke again.

"Did...did you see...see him...Bor'mir?"

"Who, Dear One? Of whom do you speak?" The green-eyed Gondoran asked.

"He...was...was so beau...beautiful..."

"Whom do you mean, Faramir?" Boromir tried once more.

"An elf...blond with...did you...see hi...him?"

"Yes—he is here." But Faramir seemed to be sleeping.

"Faramir? Faramir—was it the elf who did this to you? Please stay awake for a little more." Boromir reached over to retrieve a damp cloth from a bowl of water Lord Marach used to mop the patient's forehead.

As he gently swabbed his brother's brow, he asked him again. "Faramir, was it the elf who did this to you? Tell me about the attack."

"Two...there were...two...Did...did you...catch...catch them?"

"Only one; the other must have fled," Came his regretful reply.

Faramir nodded, but he was already sleeping again. Boromir looked up as Éomer came towards them. When the Rohirric Marshal saw his frown, he became concerned.

"Boromir, what is the matter? Faramir?" As Éomer said the young man's name, he kneeled down next to him, quickly checking for fever.

"It is about Faramir, but he is better—fear not."

"Then what...?" Éomer started.

"He spoke of thieves and the elf; but when I asked him if the elf had attacked him, he said that there were two." He said incredulously. "I would never have believed that elves would play at robbing lone travelers!"

"We know so little of elves these days. I remember when I was small and Gandalf would tell me stories about a group of elves he called the Wandering Companies; they had no permanent home and no ties to any Elven Realm. Mayhap our friend over there is one of these and they have become brigands."

Éomer paused, watching the Gondoran as a myriad of emotions flitted across his face. "What are you thinking, Boromir?"

"I had thought that perhaps someone else had stabbed Faramir as nothing made sense since he had no weapons and his horse was missing. I mean, the elf had none of his things, so I began to wonder if he was just a victim of circumstance—but now..."

He exhaled heavily through his nostrils before standing. "I had best go inform Aragorn of this. Stay with Faramir?"

"You need not ask; I will not leave his side," The blond Marshal stated.

Boromir smiled for he knew that the man would do just that; he'd figured out long ago how Éomer felt about Faramir. Perhaps one day, the other man would tell him.

He patted the other's shoulder fondly, then went in search of Aragorn.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The dark-haired Prince remained silent as Lord Marach talked.

"I am deeply worried about you, Highness. You have not been yourself." He paused, looking at the younger man. "Aragorn?"

"What would you have me say? That I am sorry for not behaving as you would have me?" He looked at his mentor with anguished eyes. "I know that you are disappointed in me—that you expect better from me. But I do not know what to do or how I should feel!"

Lord Marach watched him as he wiped angry, frustrated tears away. He laid a hand on Aragorn's shoulder then clasped him on the nape of his neck.

"I saw you with him—with the elf. You should not have been so familiar with him for he is a murderer." The Prince said the words, but even to his ears, they sounded wrong.

"Nay, Aragorn; he is no murderer. He is an innocent—a child." He looked into the Prince's disbelieving eyes.

"How can you say this? You weren't there—I was!"

"You saw Legolas attack Faramir?" The healer inquired.

"Is that his name?" The nobleman's nod, he continued. "To answer your question; no, I—we—did not see the attack, but he was standing over my cousin with a bloody knife, covered in Faramir's blood. That is all I needed to know—he _is _guilty."

"Your father would not agree, my Prince; and had this involved any other race, I believe that you would not have been so quick to judge him thus." The healer felt Aragorn tense before shrugging his teacher's hand away.

"I weary of this discussion, Lord Marach. I want to be alone."

"Not just yet, Highness. I would ask that you hear me out about Legolas." When Aragorn looked at him, he spoke again. "Legolas told me that he had tried to help Faramir, but he arrived too late; I believe him, Prince. There was no deceit in his eyes and his words rang true to me."

"Or perhaps you are just being swayed by a fair and comely face? You would not be the first." The last was said bitterly as he thought of another close to him.

"I think that you know better than that. And, I also think that you are ignoring your better judgment, blaming this poor elf for the guilt of others. He is not responsible for what happened to Lord Faramir, nor is he responsible for your personal pain." The older man watched as Aragorn pursed his lips in anger, tears beginning to well in his eyes.

"You and he are not so different, Aragorn. You both are quite young; the only difference is, as a full-blood elf, it has taken him longer to mature—though he is still little more than an elfling. But a peredhel child matures at a faster rate until majority is reached—another year in your case." These last words were spoken lowly, for the Prince's ears only, though the guard was well out of ear-shot.

"You have suffered with this much too long, having no closure—. He was cut off.

"I don't want to talk about this, my Lord! I don't..." The pain welled up inside as the tears finally fell. "Why didn't she want me? Why would she send me away?" Then he laughed mirthlessly. "Do you realize that I don't even know her name or what she looks like? My father won't even talk about her; I would know nothing if my mother—if Queen Gilraen—hadn't told me that...that I was not her blood child. She said that my mother was my father's 'Imladrian whore' and that she didn't want me because I looked too human."

Lord Marach's blood ran cold as Aragorn spoke. He knew that the Queen had always been distant where the young Prince was concerned, but he never realized just how cruel she had been when she informed Aragorn of the circumstances of his birth.

His heart went out to all concerned; to Arathorn for losing the one that he loved and having to marry the Lady Gilraen when his heart lay elsewhere. He felt for Gilraen as well for she had been in love with Arathorn from the first moment she laid eyes upon him; she had been delighted that he had proposed and then married her. She had no way of knowing that King Arador had insisted that the then Prince take a wife as his own health was failing and he wanted an heir for Arathorn.

It was only more bittersweet then that Gilraen failed to become pregnant and one year after the marriage, Gandalf brought Aragorn to the White City and the family learned of his affair with an elf from Rivendell. Arathorn never told Gilraen who gave birth to the child, but he did confide in his sister and the King. And of course, Lord Marach knew, as he accompanied the Prince to the Last Homely House to study Elven healing arts. Arathorn found and lost the love of his young life in the span of less than a full year. It had been an impossible circumstance that caused a great rift in that Noldorin family; and then he was asked to leave and they returned to Gondor and Arathorn married Gilraen; and later, as she was expected to play mother to someone else's offspring, the sweet young woman that she was turned into the bitter second choice and Aragorn paid the price.

And now here he sat, crying like the lost little boy he still was. "You mustn't think that your parent didn't want you; one day you will learn the full truth."

"Why don't you tell me the 'full truth?'" They'd had this conversation before.

"You know that it is not mine to tell." He said sympathetically.

"I know. I...I will try and do better where the elf...where Legolas is concerned, for you are correct—he is not responsible for my past and I am so tired of being angry. As for the other, that will be left up to my father." He squared his shoulders and wiped his eyes before standing, giving his mentor a watery smile.

As they stood, Boromir came through the trees towards them. Aragorn's smile faltered at the serious look on his face.

"What is it, Cousin? Is Faramir alright—does he need us?" Aragorn said worriedly.

"Nay, Cousin; he is fine...more than fine. He spoke to me at length—I was so relieved." Boromir smiled. "I did not mean to worry you; it's just that..." Looking serious again.

"Tell me."

"He spoke of his attack and he wasn't delirious this time, just tired. He said that there had been two thieves that beset him. Then he asked about the elf; when I asked him if the elf had been the one that hurt him, he said again that there had been two. I suppose that that explains what happened to his horse and belongings."

Aragorn was staring at the ground, but then he looked at the healer in askance. "Do you still think that he is innocent?" He was no longer as upset as he had been earlier when speaking of the Legolas.

Instead of answering the Prince, he asked Boromir, "Did he say specifically that Legolas attacked him?" At the blond's confused stare, he clarified, "That is the elf's name. What exactly did Faramir say?"

"We talked about how happy I was that he seemed better and he quipped that it would take more than thieves to stop him. Then he asked me if I had seen the elf and how beautiful he was."

"Then why would you think that it had been he who did this?" Marach asked.

"Because I asked him to tell me of the attack and if it had been him. He repeated that there had been two and inquired if we had caught them."

"Forgive me, Captain; but I would like to speak with Faramir, myself. It seems that he may have been disoriented and I'd like to have a chance to sort this through with him."

"Do you doubt me, sir?" Boromir sounded hurt.

"Peace, my Lord—I meant no insult. It is just that I have had more experience with getting information from the ill." He patted the Steward's eldest in a similar manner as he'd done with Aragorn. "I will go check him; will you be coming, Your Highness?"

"I will go speak with the el...Legolas. There are some things I wish to say to him." Aragorn made to leave and then turned back to his mentor. "My Lord Marach, I wish to beg your forgiveness for my rudeness towards you; you held a mirror up to me and I did not like what I saw." Then he bowed respectfully to Lord Marach before returning to camp.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Legolas had just finished eating some dried fruit and meat and drinking a cup of warm herb tea and he was now running his bound pale hands along the soft grass near the tree where he sat. He heard the tentative murmuring of a small animal just under a small bush. He began to hum lowly; just enough for the small life to hear him.

Before long, the little brown creature crept over to him and crawled into the blond's cupped hands. As the vole made itself comfortable on the Prince's palms, Legolas followed suit, crossing and tucking his legs under each knee.

"Hello, Mellon-neth (little friend). Are you furrowing for food or are you lost, as I am?" He put the furry creature close to his ear to hear what it had to say, then smiled stunningly at something it told him. As he continued to converse with the plump little rodent, he didn't see the Gondoran Prince approach.

Aragorn walked slowly towards Legolas, pensive and preoccupied due to his discussion with Lord Marach. As he got closer, he wondered if the elf was alright for his head was down and his shoulders were quaking. _Perhaps he is crying_, he thought with a pang of remorse for his ill treatment of the Elda, but he was brought up short a few feet away when Legolas lifted his head, tossing his hair across one shoulder to reveal a strikingly, lovely smile on his equally lovely face.

Grinning brightly, the blond turned towards a noise to his right. As his eyes met those of the man Aragorn, his smile wavered, mistaking the odd look the man wore for disapproval.

They both kept staring. But the vole sensed the blond's unease and scurried out of Legolas' loose grip, thereby breaking the spell, the elf's and man's eyes following the animal's retreat.

When immortal turned back, he looked so sad, dropping his gaze towards the ground. Aragorn heart tripped in his chest and he found himself desperately wanting to put that beatific smile back on the young elf's face. When Legolas finally looked up at him, it was Aragorn's turn to feel the sting of accusation leveled at him.

The dúnadan thought frantically for something to say that would make the immortal happy again, but he could think of no way that that would be achieved as long as the specter of suspicion hung over the Elven captive.

It was strange how someone who's guilt Aragorn so was sure of a few hours ago could inspire a moment's tenderness in him now. "I am sorry," He said, wanting to add more for causing the animal to leave and for everything else, but didn't.

The Elven Prince frowned, not expecting his counterpart to say that. But he didn't respond for he'd learned these past few days to be on his guard among this company of Men.

Aragorn paused but then decided that he had better inform the elf about what Faramir said concerning his attack. "Lord Marach tells me that you have denied harming my cousin Lord Faramir." When Legolas remained silent, he added, "He says that he believes you; I think that it is only fair that I inform you that Faramir was awake long enough to tell us that you, along with an accomplice, did this to him."

The elf's eyes grew wide as he heard this, clearly both incredulous and distraught. "He would not...could not say such a thing!" Legolas said forcefully, coming to his feet, drawing the nearby guards' and rangers' attention. It was the first time since meeting the Gondoran Prince that he proactively said anything to him or any of these mortals save for the kind healer.

Aragorn was taken aback slightly and found himself slipping back into his mode of hostility at the elf's declaration. "Do you accuse me of lying, elf?"

"It would not be the first time that Men have behaved so dishonorably."

"Remember to whom you speak! You are alone here—accused and at my mercy." He said with feeling, this elf stirring strong emotions in him—some he recognized and others that still eluded his conscious mind. "Men are not the only ones who _' behave dishonorably! '_ This I know from personal experience."

"What of my personal experience; I stand accused of the misdeeds of your own kind. If you and your cousin would rather punish me instead of the true criminals, then I say that you have no honor. Of course, I should not be surprised at this; my adar told me long ago of the treachery of the Edain and how not to trust them.

"I thought that he was being influenced by past anger and loss, but now I see the truth of it; you think nothing of blaming the innocent for crimes not their own and taking credit for the brave deeds of others." Legolas was angry—angry at these mortals, but more so at himself, for in his fright at being alone for the first time in his life, he had forgotten whose child and grandchild he was. But no more; he was a Prince of Greenwood the Great and the ion of its brave and fearsome Monarch and it was time he started acting like it.

"Of what 'brave deeds' do you refer?" Aragorn was still angry, but he was now intrigued to see this side of the elf—full of righteous indignation and fire.

"I speak of your ancestor; you are of the line of Isildur, are you not?"

"Yes, but what of it?"

"It was not he who destroyed the One Ring, but Círdan the Ship-wright and Prince Elrond; he wanted to keep it for his own." The blond said with feeling.

"Now you lie, elf. All the World knows that Isildur cast the Ring into the fire of Mordor." Aragorn said as indignant as Legolas.

"My adar was there as were the elves I mentioned; and they still live to tell the tale amongst our people. They let your ancestor take the credit as to keep and preserve the newly won peace—content to celebrate the end to a great Evil. But Men forget and choose to break the old alliances so as to not have to share in past victories."

Legolas calmed somewhat. "I see that you do not believe me, but care not; no longer will I cower before you. I know that you will take my life for this; I only ask that you do not spill my blood for it would surely call out to my brothers who are looking for me—causing a great war to break out between our people."

"You will not die. Even if Faramir had not recovered, no one here would kill you; no one here would dare harm you now—for _I _will not allow it." Now that he'd spoken with the Senior Healer, he could see what the man had; and he suddenly felt a fierce protectiveness towards Legolas— now believing him to be innocent.

He continued speaking in order to assure the young Elda. "You will be first taken to Outpost 40 and then from there to Rohan; then on to Minas Tirith in Gondor and there you will be brought to trial. My father the King will decide your guilt or innocence. If you are found to be guilty, imprisonment, not death, will be your sentence." Aragorn watched the play of emotions on the elf's exquisite face as he seemed to come to a decision.

"Then it is still the same, for a stone prison will surely kill me." With quiet dignity, he spoke again. "Long ago, my father and the great Elendil were as brothers, so strong were their respect for one another. Adar once told me that they had pledged to always be so as long as one drew breath. In honor of that brotherhood, I will request that I be treated with special consideration; as a once friend of Númenor, I declare myself to be a political prisoner."

"Political prisoner—on what grounds?" The Crowned Prince asked.

"On the grounds that I am Legolas Thranduilion, Prince of Greenwood the Great. It is in Gondor's interest—well as the interest of Middle-earth—to keep the once allies of Elves and Men from going to war!"

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

During nearly the entire exchange between Aragorn and the Elven prisoner, Boromir had been dividing his attention between them and Lord Marach and Faramir. His brother had not regained consciousness since he spoke with the Captain-general. Lord Marach had begun checking him for evidence of a fever spike as well as inspecting his dressings immediately upon arriving at the patient's side. Now, he was swabbing his forehead with cool, clean water.

When Legolas' voice carried during his heated exchange with Aragorn, all eyes, including Boromir's, Éomer's and Marach's, turned in their direction. Boromir's knowledge of Sindarin was shaky at best, preferring to study sword-play and military stratagem instead; so, he could only make out bits and pieces. But the look on Lord Marach's face showed concern—but for whom, Boromir could not decide.

As they continued to observe, neither noticed the younger Steward-Prince eyes open, Boromir turning back only when Faramir touched his hand. "Why so concerned, Big Brother—I did not die, did I?" Faramir had a wicked since of humor and a love of the absurd.

"Welcome back, Love. How fare you?" Touching his face as he asked.

"I am hungry, but not for that vile tea and herb-infested broth Aragorn insists on pouring into me!" He laughed at that (he had been mostly unconscious during those times, but apparently remembered those remedies), but smiled broader when he noticed the Senior Healer next to him. "Lord Marach; thank the Valar that you have come to save me from my over-protective brother and cousin."

Marach chuckled, saying, "And who will save you from me, hum?"

Éomer rejoined, "I guess that would be me."

Faramir followed his voice, gracing the Marshal with a fond smile. Before he could speak to Éomer, he heard murmuring coming from the guards and rangers throughout the camp. "What is happening, Boromir?"

"Aragorn is... _speaking _...with the elf, Legolas," He said with a touch of irony when hearing the raised voice of his cousin.

"Then, I did not dream him...wait—we spoke of this earlier; I remember now." He looked at his brother with a happy grin on his gorgeous face. "He came to my rescue when those vile thieves struck. He was like...a fearsome angel! I would like to speak with him—to thank him. Please fetch him, Boromir."

"Of course, Little One." Boromir looked at the Gondoran healer, "You were correct, sir—I am glad." He then stood to do as his brother asked.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Aragorn asked Legolas, "You are King Thranduil's son? Why have you not spoken of this before now?"

"When was I supposed to say these things? The first time I attempted to speak to you, you threatened my life with my own blade. None of you wanted to hear me profess my innocence, for you branded me guilty; why would I think you would believe that I was a lost Prince of Greenwood?" The Sindar was very tired suddenly (of talking and explaining) so he turned and sat down where he had been when Aragorn first approached—cradling his head on top of his drawn-up knees. When the man Boromir came over, he braced himself for more strife.

"Aragorn; Faramir is awake and he is asking to speak to the elf." He whispered to the Gondoran Prince.

Aragorn was pleased that Faramir was awake again, but wondered what his young cousin would have to say to Legolas, not wanting him to become upset at facing his believed attacker, but also concerned for the Elven Prince. "Speak to him—did he say why?"

"Yes. He wants to thank him."

TBC

Please review.

A/N: Yay! The truth is out and Faramir has saved the day! I know that I put a LOT of background and side-story and notes in this chapter, but this will be needed for future chapters. Much has been revealed, but there is still a lot of angst ahead. I will update as soon as I can (you know I love this, so don't despair), but it may be a bit longer as I'm getting ready for classes to start in a couple weeks and there are a couple other duties that I will need to complete—the Mistletoe in May Fic swap and I am helping to moderate a new community at livejournal called epiloguesetc. It is very unusual so check it out—I'll tell you more if you are interested; just email me.


	6. Chapter 6 “Baring Witness”

Another's Guilt by Númenora

Rating: M, PG this chapter

Disclaimers and Summary: See chapter one.

Warnings: Remember, this is slash; AU, Mpreg. Un-betaed, all mistakes are mine.

A/N: My take on the 'mechanics or 'the how' of Mpreg will be touched upon in the next chapter, but in this one, there will be more on the elves' search for Legolas as well as more info about the family Thranduilion. Everything concerning the particulars will of course be AU since all the children, except Legolas, are OC's; I will tossed in just enough Tolkien 'facts' to be dangerous (smirk). I apologize for the lack of 'Nitty-gritty' and 'getting-down-to-it' in this chapter, but I had to get rid of the specter of Legolas' 'guilt and Aragorn's hostility towards him out of the way. There will be heat next chapter, I promise! Girl Scout persona firmly in place

Thoughts and stressed words denoted by _Italics_

Chapter Six

Baring Witness

Finrod applied more of the healing herb to the frightened mare's hind legs, the front ones already bandaged. It had been one day ago since the Silvan elves had found her, her reins ensnared in the wild nettle bush—deep gashes caused by the vicious-looking thorns covered her lower body. She had been frightened, tired and was also lame in one leg. In order to calm the animal enough so that they could free her, Finrod and the others sang to her, eventually cutting the reins free.

Now, though less agitated, the mare was still quite disturbed; as far as he could determine, the animal had been running for hours, perhaps days. The few facts that he was sure of, was that the horse belonged to a man and that man had met with some kind of violence to which the mare had borne witness. Also, the animal had seen someone that she referred to as a child of light; Finrod was convinced that this 'child' was an elf—perhaps their lost Prince Legolas. Finrod and the other Silvans from Greenwood were attuned to nature, but the two younger members of the Royal family were more so; having inherited this gift from their mother who was said to be especially gifted. He was convinced that Arminas would be able to learn more.

"There, mellon—this should help you heal. Now, if only I could get you to take more than water; you can not go help your friend and mine if you are too weak from hunger in addition to all else that ails you, now can you?" Finrod smiled, thinking how very intelligent this particular horse was; perhaps if she were less so, she would not be so distraught.

A noise caught Finrod's attention—and the horse's as well, for it tried to flee. The elf healer hated fettering the injured animal, but in her present state, it had been necessary. He attempted to calm her again and was himself quite relieved when he heard the excited voices of his fellow elves as they welcomed the Princes Thranduilion and their Lórien brethren.

"Your Highnesses—over here; but gently though." Finrod called barely above a whisper, but plenty loud for Elven hearing.

As the brothers, Haldir and the other elves approached them, the mare became excited, but not fearfully so. She tried to pull from Finrod's grip as he caressed her coat, looking directly towards Arminas.

The younger Prince locked gazes with her and smiled and she calmed immediately. His brother Oropher (though he'd witness Arminas and Legolas commune with both flora and fauna many times), he, along with the others present, were amazed to see the interaction.

"Suilad, Pen-vuil (greetings, Dear One)," Arminas said, stroking the chestnut mare's mane. "Easy, for I do not understand. That's it—tell me what troubles you, Mellon-nin."

As he listened for some time, his emerald eyes became quite wide, alerting his brother and Haldir that something important was imminent. "She has seen Legolas—I am sure of it!"

"How can you be sure, Tôr dithen (younger brother)?" Oropher inquired.

"Because she thinks that I was with her master; she is thanking me for scaring off his attackers—some unsavory edain. But she wants to know where he is and how he fares." He smiled and laughed gently, "She calls me 'Child of Light.' If that is not our Little Leaf, then it is no one!"

Arminas had every reason to believe that the animal was speaking of Legolas, for although Arminas and Oropher had their adar's eye and hair color, he and Legolas had their mother's fair completion and fine bone structure. She had been quite beautiful with white-gold hair, cerulean blue eyes and the gentlest soul of any being living in the known World; and Legolas was her very image made male.

Oropher, who did not share the same birth parent as his siblings, looked like Thranduil and the Prince's sire Edrahil, who was slain by Woodmen while on patrol in Northern Greenwood. The Woodmen and the Beornings had been living in Central and Northern Greenwood for centuries at the generosity and gratitude of King Thranduil, having helped to rouse Orc and other servants of Evil out of Dol Guldur after the Sauron was expelled by the White Company in TA 2941.

But disputes over territory had erupted between the two groups and the Woodmen had become fearful that the elves had taken the Beornings' side over theirs; and so, a small group of radicals attacked Edrahil and his party of elves, killing him and several others before the Silvans rallied and slew them. King Thranduil had been devastated and in his grief, he and his Elite Army of Warriors (many who had fought against Sauron in the Last Alliance) attacked the Woodmen and captured their leaders, imprisoning them and expelling the rest as well as the Beornings—forbidding all Men to enter Greenwood on pain of death.

He would have faded from his grief, not having someone like Edrahil to care and advise him, but he did have Edrahil's child Oropher whom they named in honor of the late King. This wise and noble elf had been there when Thranduil's father was slain and he had helped the new King to lead his people as Oropher would have wished; making Greenwood a great Elven realm. And in the intervening years, Edrahil also won Thranduil's love, becoming his Consort and most trusted Seneschal (advisor or counselor).

Prince Oropher had been very young (just 300 years) when his sire died and for the longest time, it had just been the King and him. He loved and missed his ada (referred to as 'Da) very much; but a very beautiful Noldo elleth from Lothlórien arrived in Eryn Lasgalen with the Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel and managed to, not only steal the King's lonely heart, but the young Crowned Prince's as well. They bonded and eventually added two more elflings to this loving group.

Oropher blinked back tears of sadness and joy from the past as he continued to listen to Arminas speak with the chestnut mare. The young Prince informed them that the men (who'd attacked the young adan) fled, taking the mare with them after the 'Child of Light' appeared. They'd ridden her hard for many hours until they stopped in a dark wood, where others like them awaited. These rough beings fought over her master's things and, when one tried to take her away with him, another man knocked that one to the ground, allowing her to flee into the surrounding wood. She tried to get back to her friend, but lost her way in the unfamiliar terrain.

"The poor thing had been running for days, but she is most grateful to you, Finrod for dressing her wounds and giving her water." The lovely Prince placed a kiss on her muzzle.

"She is most welcomed, but could you see if you can get her to eat something?" Finrod smiled fondly at the animal.

"I will try. Do you suppose that we will be able to find where her friend that fell?" Arminas asked.

Haldir answered, "When she is physically up to travel, perhaps we will be able to retrace her steps—being careful to avoid these thieves."

"Then, we will make sure that she improves; isn't that right, Carnil?" Arminas said, calling the horse by name.

"Is that her name?" Oropher asked of his brother.

"It is; and we shall be great friends." The younger Thranduilion stated, handing the animal some soft grass to eat.

Finrod as well as the others were very pleased to see his patient eating and he left the animal in Arminas' capable hands. He then joined with Haldir and the elder Prince; now very optimistic, the three of them began to formulate a new search plan to find Legolas.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Aragorn looked squarely at his cousin Boromir, not sure if he'd heard correctly. "Faramir wishes to thank him? Truly?"

Boromir smiled. "Truly; it would seem that I got it awfully wrong," He stated wryly.

Aragorn answered his smile with one of his own. Then, he turned to Legolas who was sitting a little ways away, head bowed dejectedly. Walking carefully over to where he sat, he kneeled next to him and spoke, "Your Highness?" When the elf failed to answer, he continued, "Faramir is once again awake and would like to speak with you."

Legolas lifted his face to Aragorn. No tears were in his blue eyes, but the sadness there tore at Aragorn's heart—sadness that he knew was his fault. The Gondoran Prince lifted a hand to touch Legolas' face, but the elf flinched away, giving Aragorn a look of profound distrust.

Dropping his hand away, the Peredhel stood, speaking gently. "Come, I will take you to him." He offered his hand to assist the Elven Prince to stand, but he once again resisted Aragorn's touch and stood on his own perfect bare feet.

Legolas walked ahead of Aragorn and, passing Boromir, went over to where Faramir lay, Lord Marach and Éomer flanking his prone form. He stood at Faramir's feet until the Gondoran healer waved him over to the young Diplomat's side, opposite him.

Legolas was trembling inside, but he refused to let these mortals see it. So he lifted his chin proudly and sat with his legs crossed in a similar fashion as he'd done when he had communed with the little vole earlier. The blond Prince watched as Lord Marach touched the wounded young man's shoulder, whispering to him. "Faramir—he is here."

Faramir opened his eyes and then turned towards Legolas when the elder dúnadan nodded to his position. His violet gaze looked intently at Legolas, the elf wanting desperately to flee. His brave stance from earlier with Aragorn abandoned him; his heart nearly beating out of his chest as he waited for this young man to seal his fate, accusing him before all.

"It was you—I thought that I dreamed it all," Faramir said, violet eyes looking into sea-blue ones.

Legolas did not look away; the only outward sign that he was frightened were his bound hands balled tightly in his lap. He barely noticed Aragorn watching him closely or Boromir as he stood next to Éomer just over the Prince's shoulder. He just waited.

Faramir's right hand lifted weakly towards Legolas, a brilliant smile accompanying it. The Sindarin was caught off guard at first, but returned Faramir's smile at the man's next words.

"You saved my life; I have no words to properly thank you."

"You do not have to thank me for I feel responsible for your injury. Had I not come along when I did, you would not have been distracted, giving those vile men the upper hand." Legolas said in accented Westron, lifting his bound hands to take Faramir's.

When the young dúnadan noticed the ropes, he frowned deeply. "You are bound! Why is he bound?" He asked of his companions.

"I am to blame, Cousin. When we found you bleeding and near death, I blamed Legolas for your injuries." Aragorn was looking at Legolas as he spoke, contrition in his eyes as he spoke.

"Why did you not question him about what happened to me?" The younger Steward-prince asked logically.

Aragorn moved to kneel next to Legolas, removing the elf's bonds as he answered Faramir. "Because one doesn't ask for answers to questions he thinks he knows. In other words—I was being quite arrogant and unjust."

He paused in his task to face the Greenwood immortal. "I will not insult you by expecting you to forgive my actions—they are unforgivable; but I will offer you my deep-felt apology for my ill treatment of you."

Legolas met his stare unflinchingly, noting the man's seeming sincerity. Under different circumstances, he wouldn't have hesitated to accept; but this adan had threatened his life and had ignored his plight without ever considering his innocence. Legolas had felt constant fear from the moment Aragorn forced him to the ground, up until just a few moments ago; he was not ready to just forget all of this. So he remained silent as he continued to meet the blue-green stare of the Gondoran Prince.

Aragorn nodded, understanding Legolas' reaction to his apology and went back to removing the rope from around the Sindar's bandaged wrists.

"You take on too much, Your Highness," Boromir stated. "You are not alone in this; I am also to blame, failing to look beyond what we saw. My Lord, I would add my apology to my Cousin's and if it takes me the remainder of my days, I will endeavor to make amends."

Legolas' interactions with Boromir had been few during his captivity, the man continuing to stay near his brother. But the young elf blamed all these edain equally—except for Aragorn (who was the most culpable) and Lord Marach, who showed him only kindness; the young Ranger who tried to feed him that second day; and of course, Faramir to whom he bore no ill feelings.

"We all could have done better towards you, sir. I, too, beg your pardon; our love and concern for Faramir blinded us to all else. I do not offer this as an excuse, but as an explanation, only." Éomer had moved next Lord Marach so that he could speak face to face with the Prince.

"It is not necessary for you to accept any of this right now, if ever, Legolas," The Gondoran healer told him.

"Thank you, Hir-nin," The beautiful Prince smiled at this man he considered his friend. His hands now free, he turned back to Faramir who was looking concernedly at him.

The auburn-haired mortal had noticed the bandages on Legolas' wrists and also the bruises on his ankles. When the elf looked towards him, he saw tears pooled in his violet blue depths.

"You are hurt." His voice trembled as he ran his fingers on the dressings adorning the pale wrists.

Legolas smiled reassuringly, touched by this gentle mortal. "I am healing—fear not, Mellon-nin." He graced Lord Marach with smile as well, acknowledging his care and compassion.

Legolas did not notice, but two observers of these exchanges were experiencing another emotion in addition the earlier remorse—jealousy. Aragorn and Éomer were frowning as Legolas and Faramir held hands, beaming fondly at each other. They each longed to see those smiles aimed their way.

Of course, this was nothing new for Éomer, having been in love with Faramir for years, feeling envious whenever his sister Éowyn monopolized the Gondoran's time . But, Aragorn was not used to this level of envy; never having been in love before (only boyhood crushes and infatuations), he did not recognize the signs. He only knew that he wanted Prince Legolas to like him, knowing at the same time that he had no right to expect it.

The blond Prince laughed when Faramir yawn loudly, adding a smirk at the young man's sheepish grin afterwards. "You should rest, Faramir as you are still healing." Faramir liked the sound of his name coming from Legolas, the elf's accent quite charming.

When Legolas finished speaking, Faramir became serious. "I can't imagine that you have slept well these past days; you should rest as well."

"I will rest, but I will see you asleep first." Legolas became serious as well. "I am pleased that you are better; I was very concerned for you. But I must confess that, even though I was genuinely afraid for your safety, I was concerned for selfish reasons as well—for that, I am ashamed."

"You should not be; had I been in a similar position, I would have felt the same." Faramir yawned again, laughing as he did so. "Excuse me!"

"You are so excused—and hannon le for your understanding." Legolas cupped Faramir's bearded cheek, watching as his extraordinary eyes closed.

He turned away from the sleeping man and found himself staring at Aragorn who had a most peculiar look upon his handsome face. He didn't understand it, but for some reason, he felt sorry for the Gondoran; but on the heels of this revelation, Legolas chastised himself for it. He would save his compassion for Faramir, having received none from this human.

Aragorn excused himself, not being able to meet the hard stare from the lovely Prince. When he had gone, Lord Marach asked Legolas if wanted to go for a walk. When he accepted, the two went in an opposite direction from the Gondoran Prince.

As they walked by several of the guards and Rangers, Legolas looked unflinchingly towards each one he passed, having been exonerated. But he was caught off balance when Girion, the Ranger who had been the most violent and cruel to him, came up to them blocking their path. Legolas was prepared to defend himself; though he carried no weapons, he was no longer bound which gave him a better chance to protect himself.

Girion stood for what seemed like hours (but was only seconds) just staring until Lord Marach moved slightly, pushing the young elf behind him. This seemed to galvanize the dúnadan soldier into action and he fell to one knee before Legolas. "My Lord; I have been informed that Lord Faramir awakened to absolve you of all wrong-doing." He looked up with a intense expression of shame. "I treated you most vilely and have disgraced myself as a descendant of Númenor and a Ranger."

"Many here have shared in your actions, Girion." The Senior Healer told him.

"No, My Lord Marach. My behavior has surpassed all others; if one of my fellow Rangers had not stopped me, I would have slain this elf as he slept. I thought that Lord Faramir had died when I saw His Highness and Lord Boromir weeping over him; becoming angry, I drew my sword. For this, most of all, I am ashamed.

"When we return to the outpost, I will formally ask that I be brought up for disciplinary actions, having already informed Prince Aragorn and my superiors here. To try and make amends, I will offer you my sword, swearing to protect you with my very life—or die trying!" As he finished, he stood with his hand over his heart, eyes towards the ground respectfully.

Legolas did not know what to say to this, finding these mortals enigmatic and rather mercurial. He looked to the healer for guidance as the man continued to stand before them.

Lord Marach was very familiar with this soldier; the man was hot-headed and brash, but the Nobleman had always found him to be earnest and loyal. He had no doubts that Girion was sincere; but Legolas had no way of knowing this, so he answered for the Elven Prince.

"We appreciate you candor and I am sure that when our guest has had time to ponder your offer, he will let you know if he will be accepting your protection. Now, why don't you return to your duties, Girion?" The Ranger bowed to Lord Marach and to Legolas, moving off to attend to his duties.

"Thank you, Hir-nin. I must confess that nothing seems real to me now that the truth has surfaced. I am very happy that it has, but I feel as if I am dreaming and will awaken to find that all this was just a fantasy," He admitted.

They walked over to the spot where the Prince left his boots and when Legolas looked down, he noticed a bedroll and a small leather pack. The Ranger who had been assigned to guard Legolas for that day was still standing nearby; so the elf glanced his way. This man (called Dior), seeing the curious frown on the Elda's face, said, "Girion left his bedroll and some things he thought that you could use."

Legolas stooped down to peak inside of the pack, becoming excited in spite of himself. There were several items: A bar of soap, two soft cloths, a cup, some salves for minor scrapes and—this last item making him want to shriek like an elfling—a comb.

Lord Marach hid a find smirk behind his hand, "This is a standard grooming kit given to soldiers and Rangers."

"Then these are his personal items?" Legolas was dubious about taking this man's things.

"Only the bedroll, My Lord; Girion said that this pack came from among the extras we carry in case someone loses his." Dior explained.

"I will have to thank him for these things." Legolas repacked the bag and donned his shoes, rejoining the healer for their walk. Dior followed a few feet behind, guarding them as they entered the sparse woods.

Legolas kept glancing back at the man, but Lord Marach offered him his assurance that the Gondoran was only doing his duty to keep them safe, though there wasn't much danger with several Rangers and Rohirrim guards stationed throughout the area surrounding their camp. They went for several yards, eventually coming to an open area and sat on a downed tree trunk.

Twilight had fallen and as they looked up to the darkening sky, Legolas allowed himself to savor the feeling of being free as he admired the stars and the rising full moon.

"At home on nights such as this, I would lay upon the ground and stare up at the stars for hours until Ada would send one of my brothers to fetch me." The Prince smiled in remembrance. "He would try and be most stern and disapproving, telling me that it is not good for me to forgo supper. It would always be the same: I would list the treats that the servants from the kitchens gave me to eat and he would say, 'Well, as long as you ate something—though I missed your sweet face at the table.' I would kiss him and he'd send me off to bed."

He became silent for a while and Lord Marach allowed him to take his time. The healer heart went out to the young elf as crystal tears ran down his pale cheeks. "I miss him so much." He turned to the dúnadan, looking like a small elfling. "I want to go home—will you take me?"

"I will speak to Aragorn about getting you back to your ada and brothers. Now, I don't know about you, but I could do with some supper; let us go see what 'treats' we can scare up!" The Senior Healer spoke cheerfully, but he felt deep sympathy for this child and he told himself that he would do everything within his power to see him home again.

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When Aragorn returned to camp, he immediately looked for the beautiful Elda. Finding him gone, the Gondoran Prince began to panic, not noticing that Lord Marach and Legolas' assigned guard were missing as well. He was about to question one of the nearby Rangers about this when he heard his mentor's chortle and Legolas' musical laughter coming from beyond the camp's perimeter.

Though he was relieved to see them, his earlier panic made him short, temper rising as he confronted the jovial pair. "Where have you been? I came back to camp to find you gone." He said without preamble, looking sternly at Legolas.

"He was with me and the steadfast Dior here, Aragorn; there is no need for concern." His former teacher informed the Prince.

Legolas became irritable, tiring of this adan's mutable behavior. "I'm I still your prisoner despite Lord Faramir's testimonial concerning my innocence?"

"Nay, Your Highness; but you are under my protection while you are among us. You should not have left this camp without my knowledge!" He was just as irritable. Lord Marach stared closely at Gondor's heir and he became suspicious that there was more to this than simply Aragorn's ire.

"There was no harm done, Highness—we shall remember this for future reference. But for now, we seek sustenance; is that not right, Prince Legolas?"

Legolas was still staring suspiciously at the young Royal, but answered his friend's query, "That is correct, Hir-nin."

"Then, I will not keep you further." Aragorn turned to go, but was halted by the healer.

"Before we leave you, Aragorn; I would speak to you about getting Legolas back to Greenwood the Great."

"What about it?" He asked cautiously.

"I thought that since we are so close to the outpost, there is no need for a full compliment of guards; which would make it advantageous for you to take several and make for Lothlórien. I am sure that Lady Galadriel would be willing to help our friend get back home." Lord Marach watched as alarm flashed across the Peredhel's features.

"That won't be possible, Lord Marach. Legolas will have to go to Gondor first." The elf's eyes widened at this.

"Why must I go there? I was on my way to Lórien with my brothers when I became separated from them during an Yrch attack—I am sure that my kin have already contacted the Lord and Lady. There is no reason for me to go to your city of stone!" The Elven Prince was livid.

Aragorn knew that he was being unreasonable, but he did not want to let Legolas leave him. _Leave me?_ He frowned and Legolas thought that it was aimed at him. He had no way of knowing that the dúnadan was struggling with his own inner turmoil.

"I should be escorted to the Golden Wood; if you do not want to spare your men, then I will go alone." He said bravely, though the very thought of being alone again in these unfamiliar lands filled him with dread.

"Nay, Legolas—you are needed in Gondor and that is where I will take you."

"Aragorn, you are making no sense." Lord Marach was becoming a bit irritable as well.

"I make perfect sense, My Lord. Legolas is a witness to what happened to Faramir and if we are to find these men and bring them to justice, then we will need his help. You want to help Faramir, don't you?" Aragorn was grasping at straws, but he did not want to let the Elda go just yet.

"Yes, of course, I wish to help him. But I do not know where these men are or how to track them." He glanced over to where Faramir lay sleeping still.

"Perhaps not, but you saw them and as an elf, your sight is quite keen; you can give an accurate description of them and put your testimony on the record for when they are found. Also, my father, as you now know, is High King and he can contact your father by way of Lady Galadriel through diplomatic channels." His explanation sounded quite reasonable (though thin at best) and he congratulated himself on his ingenuity whilst simultaneously quashing the guilt that began rising under the surface.

"I...I..." Words were failing Legolas as he faced this dilemma: On the one hand, he knew that Lady Galadriel would get him home to his ada; but he wanted to help the kind young man Faramir find justice. Perhaps it was not so far to Gondor and Aragorn's father would be able to accomplish the same thing and get him home again. He should have asked how far Gondor actually was before he spoke, but he didn't and his next words made Aragorn's heart sing with happiness.

"Very well, Ernilen (My Prince)—I will go to Gondor."

TBC.

Please review


	7. Chapter 7 “Conditional Freedom”

Another's Guilt by Númenora

Rating: M,T (for violence) this chapter

Disclaimers and Summary: See chapter one.

Warnings: Remember, this is slash; AU, Mpreg, a bit OOC (Aragorn). Un-betaed, all mistakes are mine.

A/N: No Elven kin this or the next chapter—which I have already completed before this one. I realized that I would have to whip out two because I won't be able to keep my promise for heat this chapter. It was just not possible given the state of Aragorn's and Legolas' relationship at this stage. The only way to get them together would be to either have Aragorn (or Legolas) dream another erotic dream (which I didn't want to do) or have him force Legolas (which I refuse to do).

Aragorn may be arrogant and unreasonable and stubborn where Legolas is concern (Okay, he's a bit of a brat!), but he would never rape or ravage Legolas (not in my fiction at least). So I'm giving them one chapter to get closer and next chapter they will be getting down to it! As I promised last chapter, I will be presenting my take on the miracle of Mpreg (Yay!) and I hope that it is believable (smirk) and that my readers approve. Much of the why and how was taken from Elvish 'history' found in the _Silmarillion_

The White Falls referred to in this and next chapter is totally fictitious (or non-Tolkien); I created it as part of another fiction that I wrote for the _Mistletoe In May Fic Swap_. It is as yet unpublished, but will be made available in May; it is set in a similar world as this one (kind of an AU of this AU).

Just one word on Aragorn's horse for this fic; I like Brego (that was originally Théodred's horse in the movie) and I am giving him to Aragorn. I know that Aragorn rode Hasufel during his time with the Rohirrim and that he was given Roheryn by Arwen (book-verse both), but this is AU, so Brego is in (Yay, Brego!)

I want to thank the wonderful and talented Aralas for plugging this story; I want to return the favor by highly recommending to my readers who have not already done so to read her wonderful fiction at 'Guide to Action' and 'Guide to Completion.'

Thoughts and stressed words denoted by _italics_

Chapter Seven

"Conditional Freedom"

'_Legolas will have to go to Gondor first.' Aragorn informed them._

'_Why must I go there?'_

'_You want to help Faramir, don't you?' Aragorn asked Legolas_

'_Yes, of course, I wish to help him. But I do not know where these men are or how to track them.' He glanced over to where Faramir lay sleeping still._

'_Perhaps not, but you saw them and as an elf, your sight is quite keen; you can give an accurate description of them and put your testimony on the record for when they are found.' His explanation sounded quite reasonable (though thin at best)._

_Words were failing Legolas as he faced this dilemma...for he wanted to help the kind young man Faramir find justice._

'_Very well, Ernilen (My Prince)—I will go to Gondor.'_

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When Aragorn made his proclamation that Legolas would go with him to Gondor and the Prince reluctantly agreed, the elf was unhappy at the turn of events; thinking that since Faramir had exonerated him, he would be allowed to go home. But that was not the case and he looked resentfully over towards the Gondoran Prince.

Aragorn watched as Legolas occasionally glanced his way and he felt guilty for keeping the Elda from leaving. Every time he asked himself why, he could only come up with the same lame excuse of needing the Prince to give testimony about the thieves that beset his cousin and that Legolas would be safer with him; after all his own brothers had allowed him to become lost, putting him in harms way.

But his inner voice called him a liar, pointing out that Faramir was more than capable of describing his attackers and Legolas' testimony could be given once they reached Outpost 40 at a special hearing; he just need call one. The only reason that he truly wanted to keep the Sindarin Prince among them was that Aragorn didn't want to be parted from him—which made no sense. Since it made no sense, the Peredhel once again squashed his guilt along with his inner voice refusing to look any further into the matter.

Aragorn watched as Lord Marach handed Legolas a bowl of steaming stew; one of the Rangers had found some wild root vegetables and made supper for them all. By the looks on everyone's faces, the Crowned Prince assumed that it was good, but he barely remembered tasting his as he struggled with his inner feelings. He vaguely registered that someone had sat beside him and only turned towards the person when they spoke.

"I am quite pleased at the turn of events; I didn't relish the thought of having a Firstborn prisoner nor what would eventually happen to him at a trial." Éomer informed Aragorn as he looked closely at his friend. "You seem troubled Aragorn. You do not still feel that the elf is guilty, do you?"

"Nay, I do not. I have no reason to believe that Faramir would absolve him if he were guilty. Besides, I had begun to believe in his innocence after speaking with Lord Marach and also after talking to the Prince himself. He is a gentle soul—I know that now." Aragorn sounded so forlorn that Éomer draped his arm across the younger male's shoulder.

"Then you are sad because he will be leaving us; I understand this for I would like to get to know him better myself." The Third Marshal of the Mark was surprised at Aragorn's next words.

"He will not be leaving us—he will accompany me to Gondor."

"But why—if he is innocent?" Éomer was perplexed.

Aragorn felt himself getting upset; first it was Lord Marach, then Legolas and now Éomer was questioning him as to his reasons for taking the Prince to Minas Tirith (when he himself didn't fully understand).

"Because I say so!" He bellowed, drawing several eyes to his and Éomer's positions a few feet from where Faramir still lay sleeping. He calmed briefly when he caught sight of Boromir's censuring stare, fearing the Prince would disturb his healing sibling.

"Legolas is needed in the White City to give testimony about what happened to Faramir and I will not leave him alone in these Wood to fend for himself." He could see that Éomer was going to echo what his mentor and Legolas both had pointed out to him, so he forestalled whatever the blond was about to say.

"I feel that it is best that Father contact Legolas' kin through diplomatic channels. He can send an official delegation to Lothlórien to ask that Lady Galadriel pass word along to King Thranduil concerning Legolas' whereabouts. That is the best way and the discussion into the matter is closed." Aragorn stood up.

"I did not mean to question your judgment, Your Highness. I suppose that we do things differently in the Riddermark—I meant no disrespect." Éomer stood, bowing slightly to Aragorn before going to join Boromir.

Aragorn chastised himself for his harshness to Éomer and he realized that if he kept this up, he will have alienated everyone that he cared for, which included the Greenwood Prince—that thought bringing him no pleasure for he realized that he'd already alienated Legolas from their first encounter.

_I will change that someday, Ernilen—I promise_.

He then went over to check on Faramir and he apologized to Éomer for his harsh tone. They were long-time friends (almost like brothers) and they could never stay angry for long—the Princes Band was ever strong.

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Lord Marach looked with concern at his Elven companion; he knew how sad Little Leaf was. He smiled briefly at this fatherly endearment. "I will try and make him change his mind about taking you to Minas Tirith."

"But, he said that Faramir needs my help; perhaps it will not take long to give my account of things and I could be back with my brothers in a few days or a week." He said innocently.

The elder Gondoran hated to add to Legolas' sadness, but it was clear that the Prince had no idea of how far he would have to travel to get to Minas Tirith and then wait for word to reach Lothlórien and then Greenwood. It could take months before he saw his family again.

"Little Leaf..." Lord Marach paused at the trusting look Legolas gave him and he wanted to rage at Aragorn for putting him in this position.

"Yes, Hir-nin?"

"I'm afraid that it will take longer than a few days or even a week to get you home if you must go to Minas Tirith first."

Legolas frowned. "How much longer," He inquired hesitantly.

"It could take months, Child; Rohan is over two weeks from here and the border of Gondor weeks more. Gondor is quite large and the capitol city is further still; I am sorry—this must be a shock to you? Obviously, your studies did not include the realms of Men." Lord Marach took Legolas' smaller hand into his slightly larger, aged one.

"I studied where it pertained to history, but..." A sob escaped before Legolas could stop it; this was all so unfair.

"I will go speak with him right now, Penneth." The healer gently squeezed Legolas' hand before going to converse with Aragorn.

When he got the Prince alone, he talked to him until he was nearly hoarse, but it came to nothing; Aragorn's stubbornness was legendary, taking after his grandfather King Arador, his Father Arathorn and his...Well, Lord Marach didn't finish that thought for he didn't want to feel compassion for his Prince right now. He squared his shoulders and returned to where he'd left Legolas. When he approached him, he saw that Legolas was fast asleep, walking in Elven reverie.

The Nobleman pulled the covers over the slumbering Elda, the child apparently exhausted from today's events. The elf was over twice his age, but Marach saw him as little more than an elfling; an innocent lost child. The healer didn't have any sons of his own, but he had always loved children, lavishing his fatherly feelings on the ones in his care like the Royal sons and daughter that he taught over the years (including the ones here minus Éomer).

He was never one for coddling or talking down to them, but he would never hesitate to embrace or comfort a hurting child and giving them advice where it was needed. And now, he had an Elven 'son' to add to his others and as he made his own bedroll, he realized that he would forever think of Legolas this way.

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The morning saw camp braking early the next day. Lord Marach didn't hesitate to inform Legolas of his failure to sway Aragorn. The Prince took it quite well considering, but he told the healer that he hadn't expected Aragorn to change his mind; and that if he had learned anything of the Gondoran Prince, it was that the man didn't change in his beliefs or opinions easily.

The young dúnadan approached the elder Gondoran and Legolas as they gathered their things; when he stood before the blond prince, Legolas graced Aragorn with a look so ferocious, it brought him up short and caused him to back up momentarily. Lord Marach nearly laughed out loud at the sight.

"I would like a word, Your Highness," Aragorn said mildly as Legolas maintained his quelling stare—reminiscent of his father King Thranduil.

The Elda raised his brow as if to say 'well?' and the Peredhel continued, "I thought that you would like to have your longknife back; I cleaned it and fashioned a sheath of sorts for it. It isn't pretty, but it will serve until a proper one can be made."

The Elven Prince gave a brief nod of acknowledgement, calming somewhat, though he was hardly friendly.

Cheered a bit by the lessening of the elf's hostility, he finished what he'd come to discuss. "I would also like to offer you the use of my horse Brego; he is an excellent Rohirric steed and quite sturdy. He will have no trouble carrying us both."

Aragorn's optimism of a moment before was short-lived as Legolas once again looked at him most unpleasantly for this suggestion. Then, he smiled at Aragorn in such a way that was even more disturbing. It was one that didn't reach the Sinda's lovely blue eyes and had nothing to do with mirth.

"I..._Appreciate_...your kind offer, Ernilen—but Sergeant Girion has offered me the use of his horse since he will help bear Faramir this morning." The wood-elf's voice was deceptively sweet.

Lord Marach was enjoying Legolas' little display and he was sure that as he matured, the Sinda would be a force to be reckoned with—though he was doing quite well now.

Aragorn was not fooled, though; he knew that Legolas was not going to just forgive him and forget about what Aragorn had put him through. But the Gondoran was nothing if not persistent and he could be patient when the stakes were worth it and Legolas was worth it to him. He still didn't fully understand why, but it no longer mattered—he was determined to be friends with the beautiful Prince from Greenwood the Great.

"Very well, Prince Legolas; I will leave the matter for now. If you both will excuse me, I must speak to Faramir ferriers." He smiled, affecting Legolas' tone with a secretive glint in his blue-green eyes.

Lord Marach knew that look. It was one that Aragorn had worn in his presence many times. Usually it meant that the Prince had come to some decision involving something very important to him. Or, sometimes it involved going after something that he truly wanted—which meant that he'd already figured out the solution or was very close.

Lord Marach personally has never seen him fail in those situations. He also realized why Aragorn had begun behaving oddly where Legolas was concerned—He was in love with the young elf. It all made perfect sense; but this also meant that Legolas was in for a fight—one much different than before.

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They traveled steadily for most the day, only stopping to rest the animals and to check on Faramir. But since he appeared stronger, they didn't stop permanently except at night. This is how things progressed for the first two days, but by the third, Aragorn had begun to get agitated. He was not pleased seeing Legolas having to change horses every time the owner would switch places with another carrying the still injured Steward-prince.

Sergeant Girion had insisted that Legolas take his horse—content to walk or ride the other Rangers' horses. But Legolas would not hear of that; besides, many of the other Rohirric guards and Gondoran Rangers wanted to make up to the Elven Prince for what he'd gone through, offering their mounts to him as well. And more than one (including young Walda who tried to feed Legolas that day) had become smitten by him as they attempted to get to know him better.

The Prince decided that it would be best if he honored each man's request, having to only change every few hours. He did not mind, but Aragorn did; especially since Legolas had trouble those first few times mounting the animals—not being familiar with saddles. He didn't like all the 'helping hands' that touched the beautiful Prince, lifting him up or allowing him to step into their cupped palms to get onto the horses' backs.

The final straw came when they had stopped to water the horses and an extremely handsome Rohirric guard got a little too close when he tried to help Legolas. Something flew into the Prince's eye and the tall blond soldier went to his aid. Seeing the man cup the elf's face, tipping it up to look deeply in the attempt to spot the offending object, sent in the Gondoran into a tailspin; and he went over and ordered the man back to his duties, helping Legolas himself.

He was incredibly gentle with the Sinda which confused Legolas, making it hard for him to maintain his ire at Aragorn. Of course, it didn't take long for that to change as the Gondoran had a way of upsetting Legolas with his arbitrary behavior. Just when the elf had decided to afford the man (for he knew nothing of Aragorn's mixed race) some consideration as he'd done with the soldiers, he grew furious at him again.

Legolas was preparing to switch horses again as Walda reminded him that it was his turn to help carry Faramir. The boy (well young man actually) took Legolas by the hand to lead him over to the dappled gray mare, smiling as if they were on a stroll. Aragorn came over like a thundercloud, glaring down on the younger man who stood nearly a head shorter than Aragorn (and Legolas for that matter), bringing him up short much in the same manner as Aragorn had that other morning before Legolas.

"Your...Your Highness! What—May I help you, sir?" Walda stammered.

Aragorn pointedly stared at the young Ranger's hand still holding the wood-elf's, making him drop it as if it had suddenly become hot as fire. "Does your horse know how to follow the other's lead?" The Gondoran heir inquired.

"Aye, my Prince," Walda said frowning, not understanding the point of the query.

"Good—because Prince Legolas will be riding with me hence forth; spread that among the other guards and Rangers as I don't intend to repeat myself." With that, he took Legolas' recently dropped hand, leading him over to Brego.

"I do not wish to ride with you!" Legolas hissed trying to pull away from Aragorn's surprisingly strong grip.

"I didn't ask you if you did—but you will." He said amiably, but brooking no argument.

"Why do you insist on treating me so callously? Do you hate me still, though I committed no crime?"

This made Aragorn stop and face Legolas. "No, Legolas—I do not hate you; I only want to keep you safe." He looked earnestly at Sinda, thumb caressing the soft skin on the back of his pale hand.

Legolas was perplexed by the man before him; one moment he was being overbearing and short and the next, kind, tender and considerate. Legolas knew that he shouldn't forgive the man so easily, but he was having trouble concentrating while Aragorn continued to caress him and gazing at him the way he was.

_Why is it hot?_ Elves don't feel heat or cold normally unless they were injured or impaired in some way. But he had healed of his injuries.

"Are you well, Ernilen?" Aragorn touched Legolas' forehead and the back of his neck checking for fever. "You haven't re-injured your ribs have you? Come over here and let me see."

"No!" Legolas yelled, then softer, "No, Hir-nin, I am well." He wished the man would not touch him so, for he did not like it—did he? It is quite hot.

The elf pulled away to get some distance, but it didn't last as it was time to move on, Aragorn taking his hand again as they approached the beautiful black stallion. Legolas didn't know why, but found himself thinking that the horse suited the Prince. But by the time he was seated on the animal before Aragorn, the man's strong arms encircling, he rarely had a coherent thought again for the rest of the day.

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Two days later...

Boromir tucked Faramir into the bed inside the outpost commander's chambers. They had arrived at Outpost 40 over an hour ago and after Faramir had been thoroughly examined by both Lord Marach and Aragorn, Boromir had personally bathed his brother, changing his travel clothes for a comfortable nightshirt, and had him all settled in.

Lord Marach watched in fondness as Boromir fussed over the younger Steward-prince. It had always been that way for as long as the healer had known them. Even as a young boy, Boromir had protected Faramir; the elder Gondoran knew that Lord Denethor cared little for the kind-hearted Faramir. He was also suspicious of the Steward's affections for Boromir; his pride over the elder son's military acumen seemed less a reflection of the young man's talents and accomplishments as it was a feather in Denethor's cap.

"Lord Marach, will you please convince Boromir to take some rest? He has slept very little since my injuries. No, Boromir; don't even try to convince me that you have. Because I have it on good authority that you have not!" Faramir told him somewhat smugly.

"Éomer has a big mouth!" His statement was said wryly.

"Faramir is correct, young man. You should rest now; my assistant Erellont and the chief healer and several medics from this outpost are here to help look after our patient. Go get some rest so that he can rest peacefully as well." Lord Marach said gently, but it sounded like an order. So Boromir relented.

"Very well—I shall go rest, but I will come check on you in a few hours." He placed a tender kiss on Faramir's forehead and walked to the door after wishing his brother pleasant dreams.

The Senior Healer followed Boromir out after speaking with the young medic who was assigned to stay with Faramir. Once outside in the corridor, Lord Marach called to Boromir.

"I would have a word, Boromir." At the young man's concerned look, he continued. "It is about Prince Aragorn and Prince Legolas."

"How can I be of service, Lord?"

"Aragorn is quite determined to leave for Minas Tirith tomorrow morning with our Elven guest; I wish to convince him otherwise." Boromir could hear the desperation from the healer.

"I don't know what I can do. Éomer and I have discussed it with him and he is, as you have stated, quite determined. I don't know what the hurry is or why he feels it necessary to take Legolas to the White City—but he does." Boromir hadn't given it as much consideration he normally would have as his mind had been so focused on Faramir.

"I believe that I know why; it seems our Prince Aragorn has become rather taken with the beautiful Legolas of Greenwood."

Boromir's green eyes grew large at that and he burst out laughing before clamping a hand over his mouth just in case should disturb Faramir.

"Is..." Chuckle, "It that all? Well, I suppose that I should have seen that coming; especially after Faramir cleared the fair Elda."

"I believe that it may have started before that. I couldn't understand his hostility towards Legolas; even with the suspicion of guilt. I mean, you of all had the right to be so, but your conduct towards him wasn't nearly as aggressive." The Lord finished.

"You are correct in this, Sir. If what you believe is true, this will make it near impossible to change his mind. If you wish, I will speak to him before supper tonight about Legolas; maybe together, we will be able to talk sense into him."

"I pray that you are right, Prince." Lord Marach hadn't added that the potential of creating a dangerous conflict with a powerful Elven realm such as Greenwood the Great was a distinct possibility.

He was also worried that Legolas was becoming attached to Aragorn as well. He had noticed the clashes between the two on the trail; the fits of jealousy from Aragorn. He hadn't really felt concern for Legolas as the elf seemed capable of putting the dúnadan in his place whenever he overstepped his bounds.

But that all changed when Aragorn had insisted that Greenleaf share his steed. Legolas seemed disoriented and...Not his normal self while being held by the Heir to Gondor's Throne. And Lord Marach began noticing how the Sinda would follow Aragorn with his eyes when the Peredhel ventured far from him. Legolas was confused and Lord Marach knew that he'd been sheltered at home; in fact, the healer would bet his remaining years on Arda that Legolas was untouched.

The elf was no match for the younger, but more experienced Prince. He knew that Aragorn would die rather than force himself on Legolas, but the Gondoran could be charming and he was in love (whether he was aware or not); he could easily overwhelm the elf, seducing him without even trying hard.

And that is at the heart of the matter. Legolas is from a Royal blood-line and he had talked in depth to Lord Marach about his family; most especially about his brothers. He'd told the healer that his brother Arminas and he shared the same birth parent—a mother; while his eldest brother was born of his ada Thranduil's body. This meant that Legolas and his brothers were all capable of bearing children. Lord Marach knew about male Elven pregnancies and had studied the phenomenon as a young man in Rivendell, though he'd never actually seen a pregnant male elf. What he had discovered was that this 'gift' had been bestowed upon the elves that had descended from Royalty sometime during the First Age.

Elvish history is quite bloody; from the Kinslayings to the wars fought against Morgoth to the massacres perpetrated by the sons of Fëanor in Beleriand. Many elves died including those descended from the High Kings Finwë and Thingol. Whether Noldor or Sindarin, the Firstborn feared the loss of their Royal leadership. It is said that after the Great War, the surviving elves in Lindon prayed to the Valar to protect their rulers from extinction as many elleths as well as ellyn had already perished.

It was discovered some years after, that males with imperial blood had somehow become able to bear children. Many believed that the Valar had answered their prayers—which was quite logical. But there were a few who believed that the gift came not from the Valar, but from the Maia; namely Olórin who loved the Children of Ilúvatar and was said to walk among them, taking pity on their sufferings.

However it came about, Lord Marach learned that it was a secret not widely known outside of the Eldar. He had promised to keep that secret, so he didn't relish having to break that promise. But he would if it meant keeping Legolas safe and unspoiled.

Later that evening, Boromir was true to his word and spoke with Aragorn concerning Prince Legolas; but as with Lord Marach and Éomer, Aragorn refused to change his plans to leave the next morning.

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A little later that evening...

Legolas pulled on a clean nightshirt; its original owner must be quite broad for it fell to the floor despite the fact that Legolas was tall as most elves were. He gave a silent thanks to his unknown benefactor for the loan of these and other clothing he would be carrying with him on the morrow, having grown tired of wearing the same clothes day after day.

He was still somewhat angry for having to travel so far and for so long; the entire situation so troubling. But now, Legolas was afraid as well. His fear came not from the possible dangers from Yrch or other fell creatures that they may confront along the way (though these were worthy of concern); but from some unknown danger he had yet to name. It didn't help that Lord Marach had been to see him before he'd gone to spend time with Faramir, sharing hot broth and fresh bread with the young man instead of dining with Prince Aragorn as the man had requested.

The healer had asked him to be mindful along the journey, though he would be well-cared for by the Rangers as well as Prince Aragorn. But he then became somewhat cryptic, asking him to talk to Aragorn about Legolas' family—his brothers and father as he'd talked about to Lord Marach. He explained that this would encourage the Gondoran to share his own family history, thereby fostering mutual respect and trust between the two of them. The encounter in and of itself was benign and straightforward and Legolas saw its sense and logic; but, Lord Marach himself seemed afraid for him and this made Legolas apprehensive beyond the latent fear that had been plaguing him these past few days.

He padded over to the bedside stand where his pack lay, returning his bar of soap and retrieving his treasured comb. As he began removing the tangles and snarls he'd been unable to remove during his bath, he began to sing quietly a song that his naneth always sang to him before bedtime; a song that his ada continued to sing to him after his dear mother died so long ago. He missed her terribly and knew that King Thranduil missed her as well; his ada had always told him that he was the very image of her made male. Legolas was well aware that this was the main reason that the King had kept him so sheltered all his life.

He had been afraid that Legolas would meet some tragic end as she had and as Oropher's sire had. Tears came to his eyes as he realized that his ada was probably beside himself with grief over his loss; believing him dead at the hands of Orcs like his mother Eärwen or vile mortals like Edrahil. King Thranduil was a very strong and resilient elf, having survived tragic losses of beloved family members that included his own father and spouses; but he'd never had to lose a child and though he'd never said so aloud, all of Greenwood believed Legolas was dearest to his heart of his three sons (although the loss of any would be enough to kill him).

Legolas' song ended on a sob, sorrow over his father overcoming the Prince. "Please feel me, Ada—know that I live and I am well. I will find my way back to you; this I swear," he whispered.

A panicked knock sounded at the door followed by, "Legolas, are you alright? Please let me in!"

The Sinda frowned as he came to the door, recognizing Aragorn's voice. Not opening it, he called out, "I am well, Ernilen."

"But I heard sobbing; are you troubled? Please, please let me see you." The young man's concern touched Legolas despite his ambiguous feelings towards the dúnadan.

Legolas turned the key and pulled open the heavy door to reveal Aragorn's distressed visage. The man's eyes traveled over his face noting the tears and flushed cheeks. Pushing his way in, Legolas found himself pulled into a tight embrace, large hands wiping away tears and tucking still-damp hair behind pointed ears.

"What has happened—are you hurt? Please tell me."

"I am not hurt, Prince Aragorn. I was singing a song that my naneth sang to me and became sad as I thought of her and Ada. I miss them terribly." He pulled away from the strong arms holding him, becoming distressed for other reasons.

"You will see them again—do not fear. Your mother is in Greenwood?" He asked as he moved to stand near the elf again.

"She lies buried next to Edrahil, my ada's first spouse who was murdered by cruel and ungrateful men." Legolas' voice became harsh as he said this; partly for the heartbreak he always felt on behalf of his father and partly for the anger he felt towards Aragorn for keeping him away from home.

"I am sorry for your loss, Prince Legolas. But, I am so very happy that you knew her for ever how long she was part of your life." Legolas saw the sadness that passed over Aragorn's handsome face.

"You lost your mother?" The Elda asked him.

"In the cruelest way," he said bitterly. Seeing Legolas' puzzled stare, he elaborated. "I was born elsewhere, my father didn't know of my existence until my—she who bore me—sent me to my father. She didn't want me and I remember her not; being an infant at that time."

"I am sorry, Sir; I cannot imagine someone not wanting a child. Perhaps there were extenuating circumstances that she could not avoid. You should seek her out if she still lives; ask her why." Aragorn's back was to him, having turned away to hide his tearing eyes.

The Peredhel had sworn to himself, as he grew, to never shed tears over the faithless 'vessel' that had housed him for a year (assuming his birth took as long as full elves). Aragorn baulked at Legolas' suggestion and grew upset at the idea. He swung around causing Legolas to pull back a comforting hand he'd been about to lay upon Aragorn's forlorn shoulder.

"I would not give her the satisfaction! She has had all these years to find me and explain her actions; she was the adult and I the child. Nothing that she could say will make up for abandoning me—nothing!" He turned away again, shoulders heaving as he fought old feelings.

"I...I am sorry; I did not mean..." Legolas' remorseful statement pulled Aragorn out of his own self-pity. He'd come inside to speak to Legolas about the next day's travel and found him in tears. Now here he was causing the beauty more anguish.

"No, Ernilen—it is I who should apologize to you. I have no right to burden you with the circumstances of my pitiful birth." He reached up to caress Legolas' perfect cheek with the back of his fingers before dropping them to his side.

"I am sorry if I am intruding; I only wanted to tell you that I missed you at supper tonight and to let you know that we will be leaving quite early before sunrise. Perhaps...Perhaps we could break fast together ere we leave?" His customary self-assuredness was missing and Legolas felt that he was seeing the abandoned child the Prince still was at heart.

Perhaps this explained much of the Gondoran's personality; his harshness when confronting those he felt had committed some wrong against him or those he loved and his inflexibility when he felt that he was right.

"Very well, Prince Aragorn—I will be ready to leave when you say; and I will join you for morning meal, though I do not know the way to the hall." Legolas had sent word through Girion (who had come to escort him to supper) that he would be visiting with Faramir, so he had not been shown the way to the outpost's large dining hall.

"I will come fetch you, if you wish or I could send Girion if you'd prefer him." Aragorn knew that he still needed to gain Legolas' trust, so he didn't want to be too insistent where the wood-elf was concern (more than he already was).

"I would appreciate either, Ernilen." He smiled at Aragorn then and the dúnadan realized that it was the first time that Legolas' lovely smile had been gifted to him. His heart turned over as it sang in happiness.

He didn't realize it, but his own answering handsome grin had a similar affect on Legolas though the elf didn't realize the true reason, thinking that he was merely relieved that Aragorn and he were not clashing angrily for the moment. Of course, that didn't mean that they were fast friends, but for now, at least they weren't enemies.

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The next morning found Aragorn at the Elven Prince's door early as promised. He couldn't help the broad smile that graced his face as he greeted Legolas. The elf had always appeared beautiful to Aragorn even when he'd thought him a vicious killer. And last night, he was a true vision standing there in one of Aragorn's nightshirts, with damp hair and tears in his eyes. This morning showed a new form of Legolas' loveliness; he was wearing some of Faramir's traveling clothes that had been stored there at the outpost, the young diplomat having left them there when he'd come in search of his Brother, Aragorn and their party before his attack.

It was amazing to the Gondoran that Legolas could look perfect regardless of his garments or his (or their) condition. Covered in grime or freshly washed as he was last night and this morning, Aragorn had never seen anyone, male or female, man or elf as lovely as he.

"Good morning, Prince Legolas. Faramir's clothes suit you, though you must find them strange from your own." Aragorn came inside the room as Legolas stepped aside for him.

"I must admit that I had trouble at first deciding which piece came first; but after trial and error, I managed." Legolas' husky laughter sent a thrill through Aragorn, the sound rare and precious to him.

"You look beautiful." It was said simply, but it pleased Legolas to hear though he was at a loss to understand why. Perhaps it was only because he was now accepted by his Gondoran captors—_yes that must be it, _he surmised

"Hannon le, Hir-nin," he said shyly.

They left the room shortly thereafter, handing the wood-elf's things to the guard waiting in the hall (for Legolas' protection, only) and joined Boromir, Éomer and Lord Marach for breakfast; they wanting to say their goodbyes and farewells to Aragorn and especially to Legolas (Lord Marach more than the others).

After breakfast, while it was still dark, Aragorn, Legolas and a party of thirty Rangers and Rohirrim prepared to mount their horses. Aragorn was sorely tempted to ride with Legolas on Brego, but he resisted. As he greeted his horse, Lord Marach pulled him aside.

"I am charging you with keeping Legolas safe, my Prince, since you insist on taking him to Gondor. If Faramir did not need me, I would be going along to make sure he's protected." Aragorn had never seen his mentor so anxious except when he was worried over a patient that was not recovering as he felt they should.

The fact that his teacher (his friend) was directing these admonitions to him upset him greatly and he was hurt as well. "You will promise me that this will be done, Aragorn."

"Why would you say these things to me, Lord Marach? Do you expect that I will get him in the Woods and slay him or allow him to meet with some tragedy?"

Seeing the hurt and despair in the young healer's eyes, Lord Marach relented, patting Aragorn on the shoulder in his customary way. "I did not mean to suggest that you would harm him personally; at least not deliberately. It is just that regardless of his physical age, Legolas is like an innocent elfling. Were he a Peredhel as you are, he would be more mature. But he is not, Aragorn. You must keep him safe—for me and for his family who must be missing him terribly."

"I promise you that I will—by my life or death, my Lord." Aragorn embraced Lord Marach and wished him well. He then hugged Boromir who had walked out with them, Éomer electing to say his goodbyes inside before going to sit with Faramir. Aragorn smiled when he saw the relieved look on Éomer's handsome face as Legolas said goodbye to the young Steward-prince, glad to have him gone and having Faramir to himself.

Their first few days' travel was uneventful and they made good time, Aragorn expecting that they would reach Rohan and then Meduseld in little over a week. To say that they had been blessed to go unmolested by any possible enemy before reaching Outpost 40 and up to that moment would be accurate. But all good fortune must come to end and it was the end of Aragorn's party's good luck.

They had passed through Dunland, had gone past Isengard and were just a day from the Gap of Rohan when the scouts signaled that a large party of Orcs was headed for them. At their present position, it was impossible to avoid them and Aragorn and the seasoned warriors knew that the Orcs had no doubt picked up their scent. Aragorn decided that their best chance was to lay in wait for the beasts. Choosing the best position from which to attack, they waited. Aragorn had ordered Legolas to take to the trees and to wait until the fighting was done. He knew from the morning discussions that Legolas' battle experience was limited to the one where he got separated from his brothers, though he told them of his skill as an archer.

Aragorn had asked the guard at the armory to allow Legolas to choose a bow and some arrows. He also gave Legolas a small dagger to put in his boot should he need it. These things and his longknife had the Elven Prince well-armed, but Aragorn didn't want him placed in danger among these evil creatures so he pushed Legolas towards a large tree, the Sinda feeling a sense of déjà vu. When Aragorn was sure that he was safe, he joined his brethren.

Legolas waited in something of a daze as the Yrch beasts came near, reliving that awful day again when his life changed so drastically. The mortals were quite skilled and he watched as they battled with the dark, evil creatures. Aragorn's prowess as a warrior was impressive and Legolas found himself quite proud of the way he defended himself, though the viciousness of the whole thing was something Legolas had yet to get use to. He himself was not idle hiding in his protective bower; he felled many of the shrieking fiends as they attempted to overwhelm the humans, using the same tactics that caused Legolas to get cut off from his brothers.

There must have been at least sixty Orcs, but the Dúnedain and Rohirrim made short work of their enemy in due course. Legolas climbed higher into the ancient tree, it spurring him to be more careful. But his concern was not for his own safety, but for Aragorn who he'd lost sight of. Before long he spotted him, the man surrounded by three Yrch; fear gripped Legolas before blinding anger followed and he shot arrows in rapid succession, killing two orcs as Aragorn decapitated the third.

When that Orc fell, Aragorn glanced up briefly to look for Legolas, but was unable to see him. He didn't have time to seek the blond out as he was needed to finish off the last few beasts that were moving away in retreat. Aragorn and the other warriors whooped wildly in pursuit; their Dúnedain and Elvish blood burning in their eagerness to rid Middle-earth of these abominations once for all.

As the battle moved off, the clearing grew quiet and it was a moment before Legolas realized that he was alone. His first emotion was fear, remembering well his being on his own in the wilds a mere few weeks ago. But following close on this was the feeling of freedom; he was free. The tree in which sat spoke to him, this one not young like the ones he had encountered those first days alone. It told him of Fangorn Forest which was so very close to Lothlórien where he would find Lady Galadriel and his dear friend Haldir. This friendly tree could show him the way.

The joy he felt was all consuming but then he became conflicted; he had promised Aragorn that he would go to Gondor. He had never in his life broke faith with anyone, but he wanted to go home; he wanted to see his brothers and he wanted his ada. Once he reached Lórien he could send word to Aragorn that he would come to Gondor when those men were found or he could send his testimony by messenger promising the same. Legolas pushed aside his guilt and asked the tree to show him the way to Fangorn. The Ents there were kind and were friends of the Firstborn; it would be nothing for one to ferry him to his Elven brethren. Legolas had made his decision. He said a silent apology to Prince Aragorn and began his climb higher into the tree. But his progress was halted as he heard his name being called.

_Aragorn._

The Gondoran's voice became panicked when Legolas failed to answer him. "Legolas! Legolas, where are you!"

Legolas felt vile for not responding, but this was his one chance to go home. Aragorn had no right keeping him prisoner! He may no longer be tied in ropes or chains, but he wasn't free either. No, he was not going to answer; he would wait until dark high up in this tree until they gave up. Just then Aragorn came into view, hair and clothing in disarray, his face covered in black blood. But none of this affected Legolas; what touched him was the despair his elf eyes saw in the man's own.

Aragorn ran over to the tree that he'd sent the blond into, peering up. His sight was keen, being part elf, but Legolas was a wood-elf; they learned early how to keep out of sight among the leaves and branches. Hearing Aragorn's frantic calling, the others, led by Girion came to his aid.

"What has happened, my Prince?" Aragorn was moving from tree to tree.

"Legolas—I cannot find him! Have any of you seen him! Well, have you?" His eyes were those of a Wildman.

"No, Your Highness," was echoed around him.

"Then I want each of you to spread out and find him; he is alone and inexperienced!" Then a thought occurred. "The Orcs—did any escape?"

"No—none that we saw," Girion said, praying that none had spirited the fair Prince away.

"Go make sure. I want every tree, every rock searched! If...If anything has hap..." His voice broke and Legolas could hear the pain in it. The men spread to do their Prince's bidding

But why should Aragorn be in pain, Legolas asked silently; anger, Legolas could understand for the elf had disobeyed Aragorn's instructions of staying put as far as the man knew. But this was not anger reaching Legolas' perfect hearing. This sounded like grief. It was then that he saw Aragorn falter as he ran to another tree—stopping in indecision—before returning to the one where he was last seen; where he was now. Then Legolas' heart nearly stopped as Aragorn grabbed his chest over his heart before crumbling to his knees.

As he fought for breath, his tear-stained face upturned towards the sky, Legolas saw and heard the Prince's raw anguish before Aragorn collapsed to the ground. Legolas quickly climbed down, coming to the last branches, calling as he descended.

"Aragorn! Aragorn, no!" Girion and a few of the Rangers came when they heard Legolas' call, reaching the clearing as he dropped soundlessly from the big oak. He ran over to the supine male, lifting his head to rest in his arms.

"Please, Aragorn—please open your eyes." Legolas' tears fell onto the handsome, blood-stained face as the Sinda rocked him. "Please...Please...Please," chanted over and over.

Girion and the others stood dumb-struck and sad; the heart-breaking sounds coming from Legolas brought tears to their eyes, their own fear of what had befallen Aragorn making them feel helpless.

"Legolas—what has happened; is he wounded?" One of the men asked.

"I have killed him—I have killed him!" None there had ever heard an elf wail before, but many had heard the stories of the beauty and poignancy of the sound. Nothing prepared them for this.

Girion's training spurred him to move and he knelt next to Legolas, lifting up one of Aragorn's cold hands. He smiled relieved when he found a pulse at the Prince's wrist and then at the side of his throat. Both were weak, but steady.

"He lives!" He shouted to his comrades and then gently to Legolas, "He is alive, my Prince."

Legolas looked at him in disbelief until the Gondoran Sergeant placed his pale fingers against Aragorn's pulse-point; the answering smile rivaled any beauty present in Arda.

"Bring me water and a clean cloth," Girion shouted over his shoulder." Soon, someone handed him a cool cloth, setting a waterskin nearby. When the Gondoran had passed the cloth several times over the Prince's brow, he quickly rinsed out the orc blood and wetted it again.

As he repeated this ritual, Legolas brushed back Aragorn's damp hair, running his fingers over his closed eyelids and full lips; as his soft hands brush past Aragorn's nose, the Peredhel caught the scent of honey and warm cream.

"Legolas," he breathed before a sob broke free. Then his blue-green eyes flew open and he lurched forwards, "Legolas!"

Both Girion and the wood-elf held him in place. He attempted to pull away, but he caught the elf's scent again a split-second before he saw him, looking as if he wasn't sure if he was actually there or was a dream conjured by his grieving mind.

"Legolas?" He asked in wonder.

"I am here, Ernilen—I am here and I am safe. Forgive me for frightening you. I...I am so sorry." Tears fell freely down Legolas' unblemished cheeks.

Aragorn sat up, shrugging off Girion's restraining grip; he ran his hands over Legolas' face, his hair, arms and legs, checking for injuries. "You are well—unharmed?" At the blond's nod, he pulled Legolas close, nearly crushing him.

"I thought that Orcs had taken you from me—that I had lost you! If I had lost...If I..." His sobs were as pitiful as Legolas' had been, affecting the gathered men deeply.

"But you are both safe, now." Girion's voice was joyous as he felt Aragorn's pulse returned to near-full-strength.

But, then Legolas' next word made them pause, "Blood."

Aragorn began to search him again thinking that he must have missed something, but Legolas said, "No—not me; you are bleeding." He touched Aragorn's inner arm.

"Tis but a flesh wound, Legolas; It will heal."

"But it could be poisoned; I have heard that Yrch sometimes use poison on their blades. Elves have been known to survive it, but it has been proven to kill mortals, including Dúnedain." Legolas remembered his lessons concerning Yrch strategies, though the term was almost a misnomer. But the fell creatures that had inhabited Dol Guldur with Sauron before the White Council cast them out had proved to be much wiser that other Yrch.

"Then I should be safe—at least half as safe!" Aragorn chuckled, but ceased when he saw that Legolas was still worried. "Fear not, Fair One; I am not poisoned. Had I been, my arm would be quite numb and I would be ill right now."

"But you were ill—you fell. I saw you fall." Legolas' blue eyes were wide with fear and concern. Aragorn knew that it was wrong, but the sight filled him with happiness to know that he mattered to the elf.

"That had nothing to do with my wound; that was my fear that I had let you come to harm. It was my grief, Legolas."

The Elda hadn't realized that mortals felt grief in the same manner as elves; physical pain being a sign of fading. But there was much about humans he had yet to learn. "I did not realize that it was possible for mortals to grieve as elves do."

"While it is true that most humans grieve differently than the Eldar, it can cause mortals to fade, too. Not like elves, but death can come from it. It is more so among the Children of Númenor that have Elven blood."

"Like your family who came from Elros," Legolas supplied.

"Yes. But, in my instance, there is more to it. You see, sweet Legolas, I am part Elda." He watched as Legolas' eyes widened at the news.

"That is what you meant by being 'half as safe?'"

"Yes. My father met my mother in Rivendell," he paused, willing away the old hurt. "She sent me to him because I was too human in appearance; it is why she didn't want me."

Aragorn watched as Legolas' perfect face became flushed with anger, "Then she is a fool! She is not worthy to be your mother or an elf!"

The dúnadan smiled at that, touching Legolas' pink-tinged cheek. The Sinda blushed, adding more color to his already flushed visage. "Well, she is," he finished a bit petulantly, causing the others watching to chuckle.

"Why don't you and Prince Legolas leave this clearing, Your Highness? We had begun to clear away the Orc filth and found a place to tend the wounded when we heard your cry..." Girion paused briefly, "Before we stopped to search for our Prince Legolas."

"It is alright, now; he is safe. Let us do as the good Sergeant suggests." Legolas and Girion helped Aragorn to stand, not letting go until he appeared steady on his feet.

When he and Aragorn were alone and sitting against a tree sharing cool water and dried fruit, Legolas felt the need to explain why he didn't answer when Aragorn called out to him.

"Aragorn," the Gondoran liked how his name rolled off Legolas' tongue, his accent most charming. It was also the first time that the Peredhel heard his name without 'Prince' coming before.

"I have to tell you something—something that will anger you. I feel that I must beg your forgiveness for causing you grief. I heard you call out to me, but I did not want to answer. I..." His voice broke.

"I..." He started again, but Aragorn placed a tan finger against the blond's perfect lips.

"It is alright, Legolas—I know what you would say. I forced you to go to Gondor when you wanted to go to Lothlórien. I know how close we are to Fangorn which is very close to the Golden Wood. It is only natural that you would wish to go there since it is where your brothers may be." Aragorn sipped his water.

"You are not angry with me?"

"No, Ernilen—I am not angry with you. I am just happy that you are safe; I could not bear it otherwise. I do not wish to be parted from you, Legolas; but if it is your wish," Aragorn's heart twisted in his chest and his breath caught again. "If it is your wish, I will take you to Lórien."

Legolas saw and heard the sincerity coming from Aragorn and he knew that if he said so, then Peredhel would take him to Lady Galadriel. He was filled with such happiness and relief, that he felt like singing. But then he saw the pain that the dúnadan was suppressing and he could again see Aragorn gripping his chest and the ashen look on his face as he lay as if dead in the clearing. Legolas would give his immortality not to see another being suffer so, especially if the being were Aragorn. He had no idea where these feelings were coming from, only that they genuine.

If Aragorn had asked him this the day before or that morning before the Yrch attack, his answer would have been a resounding 'yes!' But this morning and three hours ago were as if a lifetime. He could not believe what was going through his head; yes, he was happy that Aragorn was no longer forcing him to go to Minas Tirith. And yes, he wanted to see his brothers and eventually his home; but some part of him wanted to stay. He found himself saying in his heart what Aragorn had just said to him; he did not want to be parted from Aragorn. It made no sense, but it was what he felt.

"What is your wish, Legolas?" Aragorn held his breath as he waited for Legolas to say he that wanted to go home; so it was with great surprise and deep joy that he received Legolas' reply.

"I wish to keep my word to you." He wasn't ready to admit to Aragorn (or to himself out loud at least) that he wanted to be with the Peredhel, so he left it at that.

It didn't matter though, for his words made the Heir Apparent quite happy, splitting his handsome face into the brightest smile Legolas had ever witnessed in a very long time.

"Hannon le, Legolas—hannon le."

It was still early, so after the men had rested, having dug a huge hole to dump the foul Orc corpses into, setting them ablaze downwind; the company made to leave, wanting to reach the Gap of Rohan before nightfall. Though all this land was part of the United Kingdoms under High King Arathorn II, being in the familiar territory of Rohan was like home to Aragorn; a comforting thought to the Gondoran Prince as well as to the rest of the men.

When the horses were brought around, Aragorn was surprised to find Legolas standing next to Brego. Legolas nearly walked away under the scrutiny, but relaxed when Peredhel smiled before helping him up. Legolas had long since learned to master these mannish saddles and trappings, but he didn't mind being helped by Aragorn, nor did he mind the familiar way in which the dark-haired Prince held onto him. His touch was very respectful if a bit possessive.

Legolas remembered what Lord Marach had suggested to him back at the outpost and began to tell Aragorn about his family; about his and Arminas' mother and about Oropher's sire Edrahil. To say that Aragorn was surprised to hear that King Thranduil had given birth was an understatement; discovering that Legolas himself was capable of getting pregnant was shocking, to say the least; but, it also had Aragorn smiling so much his face hurt.

He didn't say it aloud, nor did he question why he thought it; but Aragorn knew that come what may, he was going to marry Legolas. Any objections that may have arisen against his marrying an immortal male (or a dúnadan male for that matter) were rendered moot. Even though Aragorn could choose immortality and rule Gondor and Arnor forever, Legolas could give Gondor an heir thereby removing all doubts that the unbroken line of Kings was yet secure. This was also the reason none of the Nobility objected to Aragorn being born of someone other than the Queen. His having Elven blood helped, too; harkening back into the days of the first High King.

Yes, everything was looking up. "Legolas, how much do you know of Rohan?"

"I know some of its history, but not as much as Gondoran history; it being synonymous with much of the history of the Firstborn. Why do ask?" Legolas liked the solid form of the man (Peredhel—he had to remind himself) pressed against his back.

"I was curious if you had ever heard of the White Falls of Rohan?"

"Nay—I know very little of the lay of the lands of Men." He thought his answer a gross understatement, thinking back to his conversations with Aragorn before agreeing to go to Gondor and then later with Lord Marach. But none of that mattered now; as he has chosen to continue his journey on his won without coercion.

"I want to show it to you; it is very beautiful and not to be missed. It is also on the way to Meduseld, but even if it was not, I would want you take you there."

Legolas smiled at the soothing sound of Aragorn's voice and he loved the way the dúnadan's breath ghosted his ears, making him shiver in delight. "Then, I would love to see it with you, Aragorn."

Without his even realizing it, Legolas entwined his fingers with Aragorn's, the company of Men noticing. It filled them with joy to see their Prince happy. No, they thought—their Princes happy; for the Dúnedain and Rohirric escorts all considered Legolas one of them, now. And for better or worse, Legolas now felt the same.

TBC

A/N: I know that I have occasionally used anglicized French words like protégé and rendezvous and déjà vu; I ask that you all overlook them or pretend that there are Westron and Sindarin equivalents out there as these words say so much where English do not. I hope that the next chapter satisfies as it will be a while before chapter 9 is begun and finished.


	8. Chapter 8 “Truths Revealed”

Another's Guilt by Númenora

Rating:M this chapter

Disclaimers and Summary: See chapter one.

Warnings: Remember, this is slash; AU, Mpreg. Un-betaed, all mistakes are mine.

A/N: This chapter was edited for the steamier parts removed; if anyone wishes to read the unedited versions, they are at my livej, homepage (follow the links on my profile page), Mirrormere, aniron and of elves and men (links on my homepage). The White Falls referred to in this and last chapter is totally fictitious (or non Tolkien); I created it as part of another fiction that I wrote for the _Mistletoe In May Fic Swap_. It is as yet unpublished, but will be made available in May; it is set in a similar world as this one (kind of an AU of this AU). Other than this, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Thoughts and stressed words denoted by _italics_

Chapter Eight

"Truths Revealed"

As the Gondoran party approached the entrance to the glen, the guards halted the group at the mouth; eight dividing off to climb the sloping hill that led to the top overlooking the waterfall. When these were in positioned, one gave a shrill whistle alerting the others; eight more soon entered to scout out the area surrounding the pool for Orc, trespassers or dangerous animals.

After a time, the all-clear was signaled and Aragorn, with Legolas sitting before him, was allowed inside and their protectors returned to the mouth of the glen to stand guard while the other rangers and Rohirrim guards remained in their positions atop the rock face just above the horizontal crevice where the water emerged; it shot out so forcefully that its jets appeared white as cow's milk—thereby giving it its name.

When Legolas first caught sight of the waterfall, he exclaimed in wonder at the beauty of it.

"Hast thou ever seen such a thing more beautiful, Aragorn?" Legolas glanced back at the Gondoran Prince with a look of such pure delight, that Aragorn forgot how to breathe for a moment. Then he answered the blond's question, never once looking at the waterfall, "Nay, Legolas—I have never before seen anything as beautiful as the vision before me."

The Greenwood Prince had turned back to gaze upon the White Falls, so he did not see that Aragorn was looking lovingly at him; so entranced was he that he squirmed in the saddle, eager to dismount so that he could be closer to it. Aragorn chuckled and urged Brego closer to their goal.

He quickly dismounted and had barely enough time to get out of the way before Legolas nearly jumped over his shoulders and ran to the edge of the blue pool. When the dúnadan had secured his horse where the animal could graze on the sweet grass, he walked over to stand by the thrilled elf.

"Ai, Ernilen—what a truly beautiful place! I have seen waterfalls before, but none such as this one. How is it possible that the water springs from the very rock itself?"

Aragorn smiled, thrilled to see Legolas so happy and relaxed in his presence. It had been days since they'd become friendlier, but Aragorn still found it amazing that they were no longer at odds; though he knew that Legolas was still wary of him. "No one is quite sure; as far as any have been able to figure, it may be an offshoot of Entwash or the River Anduin itself, managing to work its way under ground and exit as you see here. Such splendor is rare and must be protected and preserved for it is truly a gift of the Valar."

Aragorn was speaking not only of the waterfall, but of his companion as well. He had been confused as to his motives for taking Legolas with him to Gondor, knowing that he wanted to keep the Prince close, but not comprehending why. But now, he understood that he was in love with the beautiful Elda and had been for some while; which had been at odds with his belief that Legolas had intentionally injured Faramir and that all elves were arrogant and cared nothing for those who were not Firstborn. Though he still had hard feelings for his mother, no longer did he believe that all elves were the same—just as not all Men were the same.

"Yes—truly a gift of the Valar; Ulmo himself must have carved the rock, allowing the water to flow through." His shinning blue eyes continued to stare until he felt leather brushing against his hand; looking down, he saw that Aragorn had brought their packs and he took his own, retrieving the soap and soft cloths from inside. "Hannon le."

The Gondoran watched in fascination as Legolas stripped off his clothing without the least bit of shame. He only paused briefly when he noted the look of admiration from his Half-Elven companion. He knew that he shouldn't be, but he couldn't help being flattered and pleased at the look upon Aragorn's handsome face.

"Forgive me for gaping at you thusly, but I have never seen one as lovely as you—you are perfect," Aragorn said in all honesty.

"It is only that you have never seen another of my kind before; I am nothing special among my people." Legolas truly believed what he was saying.

"I find that hard to believe. Though it is true that I have not seen many, I have seen elves before when I was a young boy. It was a year before my...My father's wife told me of my heritage. I thought then that no fairer beings ever existed and they were; but none were as beautiful as the elf standing before me now. You are most special, Legolas—let no one tell you differently." Aragorn smiled at the delighted, if embarrassed look Legolas wore.

"Now, go on and enjoy the falls! I have kept you from your bath long enough."

"Will you join me?" Legolas inquired.

"I will join you, Little Leaf." He removed his clothing slowly as he watched Legolas submerge himself below the surface and emerge again.

When he was naked, he entered the water and did as his friend did and shook the water from his wavy locks. He had always heard that elves did everything gracefully—even the most mundane of tasks; being in Legolas' presence these past days, he truly believed it. The elf was removing the tangled braids from just beside his pointed ears, his slender fingers combing through to remove the snarls.

He next swam back to the edge of the pond to get his soap and then began to wash his glorious white-gold mane. Even tangled and dirty, Aragorn thought that the elf's hair was magnificent; but watching as it became clean and flowing, he knew it to be beyond magnificent—it was as glorious as Legolas himself.

The Peredhel began washing his own hair and then his body, noticing that he was quickly becoming aroused watching Legolas take sensual pleasure in soaping his shoulders and upper torso, totally oblivious of everything around him except the soap and water and the cloth in his pale hands. When the elf's hands moved below the surface, the dúnadan's eyes followed the movement, his mind supplying what the soapy water hid from his view.

Legolas' eyes opened when he heard the strangled moan escape Aragorn and became concerned that the Half-Elf was ill. "Are you well, Aragorn?"

The man (for he had not yet made his choice) coughed to clear his throat before he could speak. "Aye, I am fine. I...I am...just...happy to be...clean again." He fabricated.

"Is it not the most wonderful feeling?" Legolas splashed water on his face and shoulders, laughing like a thrilled elfling. Such gaiety temporarily pulled Aragorn from his erotic thoughts and he, too began splashing water on his face and shoulders; then he splashed water at Legolas which caused him to retaliate in kind.

The guards high above moved to the edge of the rock-face to peer in as they heard the shrieks coming from the glen; so did some of the rangers at the entrance. Once they saw that their charges were safe, they smiled fondly before returning to their watch—thrilled to see their Prince and the Greenwood Royal continuing to get along. They'd had an anxious moment or two on their journey here when Aragorn became overprotective of Legolas when the elf had tried to do his fair share in standing guard or aid doing chores; he had refused to allow him to stand watch, but relented on helping with the chores as Legolas showed his stubborn side by refusing to ride Brego with Aragorn.

Legolas surprised Aragorn by splashing two hands-full of water in his face, temporarily blinding him. When his sight had cleared, the elf was nowhere to be seen. As he looked about, towards the shore and then towards the falls, he was again surprised when the elf jumped on his back and pulled him under the water. He sputtered as water got in his mouth and he came up coughing, which made Legolas worry that he had hurt Aragorn.

"I am so sorry, Aragorn! Are you alright?" Legolas' eyes were wide with contrition as he brushed hair away from the man's face with one hand while patting him on the back.

Aragorn was fine after the first cough; it hadn't totally been the Elven prince's fault as Aragorn had been laughing when he went under. But he was enjoying having Legolas hands on him, he didn't let on that he was indeed alright. He decided to keep sputtering and coughing for a while longer and Legolas didn't catch on at first; but then he became suspicious as he caught sight of a smirk.

He decided to play along and asked again, "Please, Ernilen—are you alright? You poor, poor thing; let me help you." Then he put his hand behind the other's dark head and pushed him under again, laughing.

When Aragorn surfaced this time, he had a fierce look upon his face that made Legolas pause, thinking that he had angered the dúnadan. But he soon learned that that was not the case when Aragorn spoke.

"So cruel are you, Pen Velui (lovely one); you would drown me when I am suffering? You will pay but dearly for this!" And then he lunged at the Legolas, grabbing him around the waist, preventing the elf from swimming away.

"Pity, Hir-nin—I pray, have pity on this lost elf so far from home!" Legolas laughed as Aragorn turned him around to face him, their faces and chests nearly touching.

"I will consider this, but I demand restitution, Fair One," The Gondoran said huskily, blue-green eyes staring deeply into cerulean ones.

Legolas shivered at the look and the tone, thrilled without understanding why. "What would you have me give in restitution?" His voice had also gone husky as those staring eyes smoldered before him.

"Just a simple thing." He ran one of his hands up Legolas' smooth side, over his chest to tip his chin up as he gazed at the Prince's perfectly formed lips. "A kiss is all that I ask to make amends."

Legolas had been watching Aragorn's mouth as well, finding the full, soft-looking lips fascinating as well as the dark beard that surrounded it. He idly wondered if it was as soft as Faramir's or Lord Marach's beards, theirs being the only ones belonging to men that he had ever touched in his remembrance. His ada had told him that he played with both Gandalf's and Círdan's when he was an infant, but that was so long ago and they weren't men.

"I do not think that that would be appropriate, Sir, for I barely know you! What if you wish to take liberties?" His voice sounded as if he wanted the dúnadan to take liberties.

"I would give you fair warning so that you could escape my evil clutches, fair Legolas. Please grant me my kiss and I will leave you go."

"Very well," Legolas had never before kissed anyone other than his family and friends and never upon the lips in passion, but he found that he very much wanted to kiss Aragorn.

He leaned forwards, watching in fascination as the Prince's lips moved to meet his. The kiss was tentative and undemanding at first; the two beings trying to get use to touching and exploring closed mouths. Then Aragorn ran his tongue along the soft Elven ones against his, inviting his counterpart to do the same. Shyly, he did so; meeting the experienced organ out in the open as they tasted and teased. Growling hungrily, the human male pushed impatiently, but gently into the elf's mouth to savor more of him (causing each to near-swoon).

Legolas wrapped his arms around the neck of the half-elf kissing him with such passion; he threaded his hands through the dark unruly tresses, molding his palms to the skull underneath. He couldn't get close enough it seemed and he found himself wrapping his slender legs around Aragorn, straddling his waist.

The Gondoran was thrilled as Legolas kissed him, feeling that he had everything he'd ever hoped for—the elf of his dreams in his arms, devouring him with abandon. But then the elf's eyes flew open breathing hard and trembling; Legolas was mortified to realize that he was completely aroused, the evidence trapped intimately between them.

"Please, Ernilen—let me go! What you must think of me." The elf struggled to be released and breathed easier as Aragorn loosened his grip, though he still held on to Legolas as if he was afraid he would flee.

"I think that you are wonderful—please do not doubt that," The Gondoran said earnestly. "And...And I love you." Aragorn said with feeling.

Legolas' eyes flew upwards to meet the other's, searching them for truth. "How can you say this, when you do not even know me?"

"Ah, but I do know you, Sweet Legolas; I know you quite well. I didn't at first because I failed to look at you—into your eyes. I saw only what my distrust and pain from the past would allow me to see. But now, the veils are lifted and everything that you are is there in your eyes for all to see." Aragorn cupped the lovely face before him, caressing the soft skin on the wood-elf's face—his prominent cheekbones; his soft, shapely lips, his temples and earlobes.

In spite of himself and feeling a bit vain for asking, Legolas inquired, "What do you see?" He blushed.

"I see your beauty, your kindness and strength; I see honor and innocence, but wisdom as well; you are brave and fierce, but gentle and temperate. You are everything that is good and right in this world and I am pleased and honored to know you." He finished, smiling kindly at the deep blushes on Legolas' face.

"You see all this?" He asked incredulously, but thrilled nonetheless.

"I see one more thing."

"What is it?"

"You are beautiful," Aragorn stated.

"You've said that already," The elf laughed.

"It bears repeating! You are beautiful and I love you, Sweet Legolas—with all my heart." He was now quite serious. "I want to make love to you; will you let me?"

"Nay, I can not—you know this; I could get with child," Legolas placed his hands on Aragorn's muscled chest.

"I will not let that happen—please trust me. Let me love you." At Legolas' tentative nod, he loosened his grip, taking the elf's slender hand as they swam towards the falls, diving beneath the turbulent water to emerge on the other side.

What Legolas saw awed him nearly as much as his first sight of the waterfall. Beyond the fall was a shallow grotto surrounded by lush green grass along with flowering vines that loved the shade, some blooming only in the dark. The air and ground felt damp, but not unpleasantly so; the sprays misting the two males as they stood facing each other.

Aragorn ran his sword-roughened hands gently up and down Legolas' smooth arms, finally bringing the hands up to his lips where he began to kiss each and every digit one by one, paying special attention to the smallest ones. From there, he placed reverent kisses on each palm and then each pale wrist before working his way up the right arm to the neck and then the left one in turn. He then nuzzled the soft skin below and behind the elf's ears and then he began kissing the soft shoulders, noting the toned muscles underneath the flawless skin.

Needing to taste his beloved (for this is how he now saw Legolas), Aragorn began gently nipping and laving areas under his mouth, becoming pleased when the Prince leaned back his head to allow the Peredhel more access to his neck and shoulder and moaning as he did so. He was also thrilled to know that the Elven Prince was still aroused and that he wanted Aragorn's attentions.

As Legolas' legs started to buckle, the dúnadan caught him, and then lowered the elf to the grass before covering his body over the smaller form. Legolas froze when the Gondoran parted his thighs, positioning himself between them. "You must not enter me—you have promised!" Panic warred with his passion.

"Fear not, A'maelamin—I will not break faith with you. There are many ways for me to love you without entering you—with my shaft that is." Legolas was not sure if he liked the wicked gleam that the other wore, but soon forgot when he felt Aragorn's warm mouth latch on to one of his dusky rose nipples.

Legolas moaned in pleasure, his willowy, but strong fingers tore the poor grass from its home in the moist soil as Aragorn suckled him like a nursing infant at its mother's breast. His body arched off the ground nearly dislodging his lover as the Gondoran migrated from one rosy peak to the other, his hands gently grazing over Legolas' supple skin, leaving no permanent marks save on the nerve-endings below the surface as they sent tendrils of desire to the Prince's extremities before settling into his groin pressed against the dúnadan's firm chest. Feeling the hardness there, the Gondoran repeated his actions, adding more stimuli by suckling harder.

As the Prince reluctantly abandoned Legolas' delicious nubs, his talented tongue moved down the elf's toned, hairless chest, over the flat plane of his stomach and finally came to rest inside the blond's tiny navel. The questing organ pushed doggedly into the tight aperture, demanding entrance as Legolas' hands buried in Aragorn's hair, pushing the wickedly thrilling tongue deeper. Legolas loved the sensual pleasure that he was experiencing and his slender flesh pressed against Aragorn's bearded chin as the Peredhel continued to lave the inside of his navel.

He shivered as the Gondoran chuckled against his abdomen, "It would seem that your beautiful shaft is jealous of my attention towards your sweet belly; I must make amends to it."

He gave one last swipe of his tongue to the drenched little orifice before moving down over the gentle swell of unblemished lower belly where his bearded chin encountered the elegant tumescence of the elf's sex. He worshipped the organ first with his eyes and then with his face, running his cheeks and nose up and down the length before finally taking the head into his hot, moist mouth.

Aragorn's first taste of Legolas was nearly his undoing and he felt that he could come undone just from this. He smelt and tasted honey and warm cream and his dream from weeks ago came flooding back to him, showing him that his soul had chosen the Elda before his head and heart knew. The realization overwhelmed him and he swallowed the lovely column of flesh until his nose buried itself in the blond curls nestled atop.

Aragorn was no innocent when it came to male on male love and he knew how to give pleasure as Legolas soon found out. "Ai, Aragorn—wha...what you...do to me!" The Sinda began thrusting his slender hips, pushing his arousal further inside his lover's throat and Aragorn took it all.

The elf was not as large as some of the men, he'd been with, but the dúnadan loved the size, thinking that it perfectly fit his mouth. As he continued to suck, shaping his tongue flat against the vein running along the underside of Legolas' shaft, he wondered how well they would fit together in other ways; namely his hardness inside of the elf's body. He knew that he would have to wait to find this out—his promise to the Prince ever present in his mind.

Legolas gasped as his legs were pushed further aside and over the man's shoulders, giving him better access and control over the elf's body. Warm moisture escaping the suckling mouth dripped down, cooling as it made its way along the Elda's perineum then over the furrowed entrance to his most secret place, to slide between the elegant mounds of the wood-elf's shapely backside.

The dúnadan gloried in the sweet taste of Legolas' skin as the blond's passion mounted and he wanted more; so, he reluctantly released the sweet flesh to venture elsewhere and Aragorn unconsciously followed the path of his saliva, his questing tongue grazing over the perineum before he pushed a finger inside Legolas' opening. Legolas stopped writhing when he felt the slightly painful addition of the man's digit, but nearly screamed aloud when that finger brushed over the sweet spot that Aragorn's tongue had brushed against on the outside.

He never knew that such pleasure could be experienced by two bodies even though his brothers had told otherwise. Legolas' father, King Thranduil had never explained physical love to him, thinking that he was too young and that everyone saw Legolas as the elfling his ada did. But the young Prince's brothers had seen the admiring glances from the other elves in Greenwood—some respectful, but others clearly lustful. So they took it upon themselves to educate their tôr dithen (younger brother) about the ways of the flesh and how to know the difference between friendly embraces and sexual ones; and also how to stay clear of males (and some females) who had less than honorable intentions.

He never understood why anyone would want to do the things his brothers told him about, but he clearly understood now, finding himself wishing that he was not capable of getting pregnant for he now felt that the other things his muindors spoke of would be most pleasurable indeed. A deep, almost painful moan escaped Legolas' lovely mouth as his new lover pushed a second finger inside of him and he pushed against them, liking the fullness.

A new sensation flooded his senses as Aragorn engulfed his hairless globes resting defenselessly in the juncture of his hips, swirling them with his hot, rough tongue before releasing them to swallow his pale column again as his fingers kept pushing in and out of Legolas' tight body.

Aragorn was suddenly very jealous of his digits, wanting to feel the searing heat of the Sinda's tunnel enclosed around his aching arousal, but he was a patient soul and would someday claim Legolas as his own. His sweet Elven lover was moaning quite loudly as he alternated between pushing down on the dúnadan's fingers and thrusting into his mouth and soon the elf cried out as his hot, sweet-tasting seed flooded Aragorn's tongue, the Peredhel swallowing it all as his fingers were squeezed painfully tight by Legolas' grasping nether portal.

When his tremors ceased, Legolas pulled Aragorn away from his now spent and sensitive organ and gathered the half-elf into his arms and kissed him deeply. As inexperienced as he was, he did know that Aragorn's love-making had been one-sided and Legolas felt guilty about it. "You have given all to me and have taken none for yourself, Meleth."

Aragorn looked lovingly into Legolas' beautiful eyes, pleased that the elf had called him beloved. "I am fine—giving you pleasure has been mine."

Legolas shook his head and gently pushed the Gondoran Prince to his back before straddling his muscular tanned thighs. The elf blushed as he stared at the large magnificent flesh lying against Aragorn's flat hirsute abdomen. His hand shook nervously as he wrapped his slender fingers around the hard shaft. His nervousness soon gave way to fascination as he touched male flesh other than his own for the first time; noting the differences in size, length and shade. His thumb passed over the leaking head, smearing the fluids around. Aragorn groaned deep in his throat as he saw Legolas' pink tongue flick against his bottom lip; and he nearly died when the beautiful Elda leaned down and took the large head between his lovely lips, head dropping back onto the grass-covered ground.

As the Prince's inexperienced mouth moved down over his length, Aragorn fought his urge to thrust, fearing that he'd hurt Legolas. So he stilled his body letting the elf have his way with him. Legolas stopped descending when he nearly gagged on the hardness in mouth and tried to duplicate what was done to him and making up the difference with his smaller hands; moving them up and down the rigid column.

Aragorn had had vastly more talented lovers in his young life, but none aroused or pleased him more than Legolas and he came hard just from the sight of Elda trying to satisfy him. He pulled the elf away from his gushing organ (the Prince was struggling to drink his essence) and kissed him deeply, moaning at the erotic pleasure of tasting his fluids in Legolas' mouth, mingling with the immortal's own natural sweetness. When the need to breathe forced them apart, the Gondoran kissed every inch of Legolas' face he could before enfolding him into his arms.

They smiled lovingly at each other before falling asleep wrapped tightly in the others embrace.

TBC

Please review

A/N: Not too bad of a cliffie, but I hope this didn't disappoint. Next chapter will have Aragorn and Legolas at Meduseld and I foresee a more complete joining for them.


	9. Chapter 9 “Regression”

Another's Guilt by Númenora

Rating: NC-17, PG-13 (for a bit of language) this chapter

Disclaimers and Summary: See chapter one.

Warnings: Remember, this is slash; AU, Mpreg. Un-betaed, all mistakes (in English and Elvish) are mine.

A/N: This chapter will see the return of Legolas' kin and their Elven brethren from Greenwood and Lothlórien. Other well-known Tolkien characters will appear—notably Galadriel. There will be a bit of OOC-ness from one or more of these characters (this chapter and future ones); I won't say who right off because that would reveal too much at first. But it will become apparent later on along with some answers to secrets (eventually) that have been kept over the years.

The time frame may be a bit confusing as there will be some overlapping. When we meet up with the search party, it will be approximately the same time as that of Aragorn and Legolas at the White Falls in Rohan; but as time progresses, some things may not be synchronous. I don't feel that this will take away anything from the 'action' (I'm using this term very loosely in some cases) involving the characters.

Aragorn and Legolas will be in this chapter, too as I will be alternating between A/L and the searchers. One quick note on Galadriel: Since Sauron was defeated and the One was destroyed during the Last Alliance, she does not have the aid of Nenya (her ring of power), so she is not as powerful as in canon LotR. She is still able to farspeak/mindspeak with the elder elves like Thranduil, Elrond and Lord Celeborn, etc., but she is not all-seeing (though she still has the gift of foresight like Elrond). And since her continual fight against Evil and her aid during the WR made it possible for her to earn her right to enter Valinor in canon, it is not the case here which may will be relevant in this chapter. One final thing: I apologize for the obscenely late update of this fic and I will try to update again very soon (fingers crossed).

Elvish Phrase Glossary at the chapter's end

Thoughts and stressed words are in _italics_

Chapter Nine

"Regression"

Rúmil watched as the large party (still hours away) approached. He, his brother Orophin and the wardens of Lórien were guarding this entrance into the Golden Wood. It hadn't taken him long to recognized the form of his elder muindor Haldir, so he and the others weren't on high alert against the approaching group though they were always ready for attack by yrch or other invaders.

Orophin came close to stand by Rúmil on the outer edge of the guard talan. "I do not like the set of Haldir's shoulders; the search for the lost Princeling must have gone ill," he whispered to Rúmil.

"I hope not. I do not relish the lamenting that will follow if the young one has fallen." Rúmil had only met Legolas once, but he had been instantly enchanted by him.

The Silvan well-remembered Legolas' and Arminas' naneth Eärwen; though he was much younger than she, he could but help be enamored of Galadriel's young ward. Eärwen's mother died giving birth to her and her sire faded from his grief—the elfling not enough to sustain him. The Lady had taken the care of the child unto herself, naming the babe for her own dear mother. Legolas was the very image of her except for gender. The thought that he was no longer on Arda, but in Námo's realm filled Rúmil with untold sadness.

"I pray that Legolas is well. Perhaps I should ride out to meet them," he said more to himself.

"They will be here soon, muindor-nin—do not despair. Haldir may just be tired. You know how relentless he can be, foregoing rest to achieve an aim; especially a noble goal such as this." Placing a comforting arm on the younger ellon's shoulder, "You worry too much, pen-vuil. Come—let us get something to eat."

With one final look, Rúmil followed Orophin inside the post, another taking his place as lookout.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Haldir wanted to scream for the billionth time since leaving the woods just beyond the edain's outpost. To get so close to Legolas only to be thwarted was maddening. When the mortal's horse had recovered enough for them to retrace its steps, they headed out. It had taken a few days, but they found the camp of the thieves. The place was deserted except for the rotting corpses of two adan who appeared to have killed each other, a torn jerkin of fine make lying between them; the dead men's hands still gripped the garment as if, even in death, they refused to relinquish claim to it.

After searching the area, they were able to recognize the mare Carnil's hoof prints leading in the opposite direction of whence the elves and she had just come. Another day saw them to the spot where they were sure the attack of the mare's master had taken place, the area covered in non-Elven blood. A cursory exploration showed the remnants of campfires and buried waste—food and bloodied bandages. Just as they were about to follow the mortal's path, Oropher cried out; he had found a swatch of Elvish cloth. It was a cut piece of Legolas' shirt covered in blood.

Haldir had pulled the younger ellon into his arms and comforted him as he wept; nearby, Arminas sank to the ground with wails of his own—his guard holding him close. Finrod took the piece of cloth from the distraught Sinda and informed them that the blood was not the Princeling's, but the injured human. The news turned Oropher's and Arminas' tears of sorrow into ones of joy and hope. Soon after, they began following the trail, making better time than the mortals they tracked as none among them were injured. They only paused in their pursuit to feed, water and rest their horses—Legolas' white steed Nimphelos and Carnil as well.

The mortals' tracks were easy to follow as there were many and they obviously didn't feel the need to mask their progress to their destination. Within a day, they neared what Haldir informed all was an outpost. During their journey, they had had considerable trouble holding back the mare Carnil as she was in familiar territory; but as they neared the Edain outpost, she tore free and ran the rest of the way to the walled gate. The elves had watched as the men on guard began shouting out orders and before long, some came out to investigate. It was obvious that many of them recognized the animal; Haldir, who had taken to the trees with several of the advanced scouts, watched as a tall blond, handsome mortal greeted the mare lovingly. The Silvan heard the man call the mare by name, saying that Faramir (a name gleaned from the chestnut horse as her master) would be so thrilled to have her back.

It had nearly killed Haldir to tell Oropher that Legolas was more than likely inside the outpost, but that in his opinion, they should not make contact with these men. After a time, it was decided that two elves (Haldir and a Greenwood elf called Saeros) would move closer to the station and find out what they could of the Prince. After two days of reconnaissance, they learned that Legolas had been taken to Gondor, traveling with someone of import and a party of Dúnedain and Rohirrim guards.

During their pursuit, they had determined that Legolas had been bound for at least half the journey—signs of his hobbled feet quite evident; but then, the Prince had been unfettered for the remaining trip. They still didn't know if Legolas was considered a captive; even though his feet had been unbound, he still could have been their prisoner. If that were the case, then they would need to contact Lady Galadriel and through her, King Thranduil so that Legolas could be retrieved through diplomatic means.

Haldir and the Thranduilionnath reluctantly left, heading towards Lothlórien. Everything within each of them wanted to pursue the party heading to Gondor, but they knew that if they confronted the humans, there was a good chance that their captive kin could be killed—the thought that Legolas went willingly never entering their minds. So here they were, approaching the Golden Wood without the young ellon close to their hearts.

The Marchwarden looked over at Legolas' brothers: Oropher was trying to appear strong for Arminas who was barely containing his anguish and disappointment. The Silvan could see through Oropher's brave front, but he did not—could not—say anything of comfort as his own feelings of helplessness impeded any sage words he might have been capable of giving normally. He could only offer his physical presence and he reached over to briefly grasp the Prince's cold hand, squeezing the fingers in support. The younger elf's grateful, lovely smile warmed Haldir's heart, making him feel better instead of the other way around.

"Ada will be so angry and disappointed that we failed our dear Greenleaf; were I him, I would throw us all in the dungeons to rot until our lives are utterly spent!" Oropher, Haldir and the other elves all turned to Arminas as he spoke, his voice and eyes full of unshed tears.

"All is not lost, tôr dithen—Leaf is alive; that was our greatest wish. If the mortals had wished him harm, he would be dead already. They obviously do not for he is still among them. We must allow the Lady and Ada to bring him home to us. I have faith in them and you should as well." Oropher reached over, halting their horses to turn Arminas to face him.

Cupping the dear face so like Legolas and their naneth, he kissed Arminas' forehead and wiped away the tears that had finally began to flow freely. "I know that you are disappointed—so am I. But we have hope now when we had little before."

Hugging his tôr-neth tightly, Oropher then moved the elves forwards towards Lórien. Twilight was falling when they finally reached the border; once they crossed over, Rúmil and Orophin embraced Haldir and the Princes from Greenwood, leading them to a large talan to eat and rest. Though they were hungry and tired, none enjoyed the meal laid before them as their minds were with the missing Legolas. They would spend the night there, but all were eager to see the Lord and Lady and would leave first light for Caras Galadon. The sooner they informed Galadriel of the facts, the sooner they could get Legolas back within their fold.

Oropher's last thought as he slipped into reverie that night was that he would not rest until Legolas was safe with them again. He was sure that the Prince was being mistreated and afraid. He could not know that Legolas had entered into a relationship with the leader of his former captives—the dúnadan completely in love with him. It was not going to be easy to take back the ellon from this most determined young Gondoran.

"We will have you home again, pen-neth—please do not despair." He whispered to the night sky, hoping and wishing his brother could feel him.

The next morning, as the group made for the chief city Caras Galadon, Oropher repeated his promise to the absent Princeling in the hopes that Legolas could sense him and know that his elder brother was thinking only of him

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

_Rohan, at the White Falls..._

Legolas squirmed as he slept. _'We will have you home again, pen-neth—please do not despair,'_ filled his mind. Eyes becoming focused, he whimpered as Oropher's thoughts registered; his guilt and shame following closely thereafter. Legolas covered his face with his hands, trembling as he did so. _You selfish, foolish elf!_ _How could you forget your brothers—your ada so easily?_ He tried to sit up, but found he could not; Aragorn's arms were holding him. The more he attempted to pull away, the tighter the Peredhel's grip became, the Sinda's back pressed against Aragorn's muscled chest.

"Let go, Aragorn—saes!" Pale fingers tore at the tan limbs in an effort to free himself. When the Gondoran failed to respond, burrowing his face into Legolas neck instead, the wood-elf raised his voice in a near panic. "Aragorn—let me go!"

Aragorn heard Legolas' alarm, pulling the slighter male closer in an attempt to calm him, but this only made things worse. "Shhh, beloved—I am here."

"I said let. Me. Go!" Legolas said forcefully.

Aragorn released him immediately, confused by the Prince's attitude. "What is wrong, Legolas—are you hurt?" When Legolas didn't answer, the Dúnadan touched his new lover's shoulder, only to see Legolas flinch away.

"_Don't._ Do not touch me." A sob followed the command.

"Alright, meleth—I will not," Aragorn's voice betrayed his hurt, but Legolas was too upset himself to care. "Will you not tell me what has happened?"

"I wish to be left alone," he declared. He knew that he was being unfair to Aragorn, so he added, "Do not concern yourself as I will be fine. I am just...cold," he prevaricated.

"But you are an elf—you do not feel the cold," Aragorn said hoping that the Prince would tell him what was truly the matter, though he sadly suspected its cause.

Legolas' head snapped around before turning fully to face the Gondoran Prince. His voice deadly calm, he posed, "How do _you_ know what I feel? You know nothing! Not about me or my people. All you know is what your prejudice and narrow-minded _human_ mind has told you. Don't ever tell me what I am supposed to feel again!" Legolas' chest heaved as he fought his tears.

It was Aragorn's time to flinch at the venomous tone directed at him. "Forgive me, Legolas—I did not mean to suggest that you don't know your own feelings. And you are correct in most of what you said; I did have preconceived ideas about elves, but that has changed these past few weeks. Being with you all that time and..._being_...with you today has given me more insight into _our_ people—you must see that."

Legolas laughed mirthlessly at this. "You think that just because we have conversed a few times that you know all there is to know about _our_ people?" Legolas' voice was mocking but it was distressed, too.

"I didn't say that," Aragorn said lowly, totally offended.

"Oh," Legolas continued ironically. "Then perhaps you have gleaned this superior knowledge because I allowed you to paw me, touching me in ways no one ever dared to before? Or could it be that your tongue has some special divining powers that enabled it to suck out the information from my hidden places?"

Aragorn watched tears flow down Legolas' hostile face. "I never meant to paw you, Legolas—only to love you. And...and...I hoped that you would love me back. I never wanted to force my attentions on you." His voice broke as he continued, "I would rather die than hurt or frighten you again."

Legolas' shoulders slumped under his emotions. Turning slightly away from his companion, he said dully, "I wish to be alone, Aragorn—please..."

"Very well, Ernilen." He walked over to the edge of the pool. Turning back briefly to glance at Legolas' dejected form, he spoke gently, "I love you with all my heart, Legolas; I hope that one day you can forgive me for hurting you before and taking advantage of you today—I never meant that.

"I...I only wanted you to care for me...just a little. I won't ever touch you intimately again unless you wish it." He took a deep breath and continued, "Next time—if there is to be one—you will have to ask as I am not able to read your mind or your desires apparently. I will guard you with my life no matter what you decide. I just hope that we can be friends at least."

When Legolas failed to acknowledge his statements, Aragorn finished by saying, "I will go put out your things; I have a small blanket that you can wrap yourself in. When you are dressed, I will allow the others into the glen to camp for the night and we can continue on to Meduseld in the morning."

The dúnadan looked longingly towards Legolas' silent form. He ached to touch his love, holding him close but Aragorn knew that he would be rejected once more. His heart and his pride could not bear that, so he plunged into the pool to put out his and Legolas belongings. After he had dressed, he informed Girion that they would stay the night at the Falls and then carry on to Edoras the remaining eight hours on the morrow. Giving final instructions, he caught a flash of pale gold as Legolas swam closer to the shore. Hurrying over to the edge of the pond, Aragorn stood holding the small blanket he spoke of to Legolas, wrapping it around the naked Elda before stepping away.

"I put your bedroll over yonder just beyond that bush. You will have some privacy as no one will disturb you."

The stressed _no one_ did not escape Legolas' notice and he nodded briefly in acknowledgement, moving away from Aragorn. He regretted his harsh words to the young Gondoran (although Legolas was angry with Aragorn for making him desire these strange new passions), but his guilt and shame over his selfishness overrode every other emotion. His poor brothers were terribly worried for him—he could feel their pain. He had ignored the plight of his family (his adar)—the only people who cared for and protected him his entire existence in favor of staying with Aragorn.

The Peredhel had confessed his love for him in many ways even before he uttered the words this very day and Legolas returned those feelings—he knew that now, though he had not said so in words. But to choose a new love over his family was disgraceful and Legolas' guilt and shame knew no bounds. No, it was best if Aragorn thought that Legolas did not care; that way he would keep his distance.

When he was again clothed, he nodded to Aragorn, and then watched as the Gondoran Prince moved to the mouth of the glen, whistling shrilly to alert Girion and the others. The men moved swiftly setting up the camp; they watered the horses and set about making campfires. He admired the way Aragorn admonished them all to respect this beautiful place by only making fires in the spots designated by the Rohirrim citizenry who had been there previously.

Legolas felt his heart flutter to hear Aragorn's quiet, but authoritative voice speaking to be followed by his fond laughter at something one of the men said to him. The Half-elf must have felt the wood-elf's stare for he turned and gazed fondly at Legolas, his smile full of love. Legolas wanted to run into his arms, but frowned instead, his lovely lips compressing into a tight line before turning his back on Aragorn.

Girion and a few other Dúnedain rangers noticed the exchange, glancing one to the other. They hated to see the two Princes at odds as they knew that Aragorn loved Legolas and began to suspect that the Sinda returned those feelings. Each didn't say so aloud, but they all hoped this was merely a lover's spat that would work itself out.

Legolas sat with his legs crossed and tucked under, staring at the ground; he was in turmoil—both wishing that he'd never met Aragorn and wanting to feel those strong arms about him. He longed for the Peredhel's kiss and the passions so recently shared. But these longings only served to deepen his guilt and anger at himself and Aragorn. Before long, the stress from so many unused-to feelings exhausted the young ellon and he laid himself down on his bedroll. He prayed to the Valar that he would find respite from his pain in Elven dreams.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

_The Golden Wood, Caras Galadon..._

Galadriel glanced at her herven Celeborn as they listened to Haldir's report. Closing her blue eyes briefly, she waited for the Marchwarden to finish.

When Haldir bowed and then stepped back, she said, "Thank you, Haldir. I know that you and your company did all that you could to secure Legolas' return. While I am saddened that he is not among you, your decision not to confront the Gondorans was wise."

Then turning to the silent Greenwood Princes, "You must not grieve so, pen-neths—there is every reason to believe that Legolas is alive and well. It has been some years since I have had..._dealings_...with the men of Gondor, but they have (for the most part) been very honorable as well as sensible. They will not want to risk open war with the Firstborn.

"I have been in contact with King Thranduil and while he is very worried about dear Legolas, he also feels that the child is alive. After what Haldir has reported, I am very hopeful that he will be back with us soon. I know that you are tired and weary—go rest and I will send for you after Lord Celeborn and I have conversed with your adar about this new development."

Her words were soothing to the disheartened muindeir and Arminas visibly calmed which helped Oropher to do so as well, his worry two-fold. Taking their leave of the Lord and Lady, they were escorted to a grand talan reserved for visiting dignitaries. When they had gone, Lord Celeborn spoke to his wife.

"Now that we know that Legolas is headed for the Gondoran capital, we should urge Thranduil to contact Elrond about this; he above all others knows well the King of Gondor. He could intercede on his behalf."

"No." She said quietly but with feeling. "I will not bring Elrond into this matter or have you forgotten the trouble the Gondoran _King_ brought into our daughter's home? She is in Valinor right now because of it! Do you know how difficult it is for me to know that I may never see her again?"

"I do know, herves-nin—but Legolas should not have to pay for sins not his own. You and Elrond can put your pain aside in favor of this. Celebrian made her choices just as you and that family did—though one had no choice in the matter originally.

"Be that as it is; neither Legolas nor his loved ones had a hand in those decisions and should not be made to suffer further. If you do not suggest it, then I will. Nearly twenty-one years ago I stood by while an innocent's fate was decided by those who should have loved him, but not again—_never again!_ Celeborn was firm and Galadriel knew that he was serious.

"Then you tell him because I cannot!" Her voice broke on a sob as she turned away, her wavy, golden hair shimmering about her shoulders.

She knew that her own actions were just as culpable for the lost of her only child as King Arathorn's were. But she also knew that if he had not gone to Rivendell, Celebrian would still be near—not in Aman where her mother is not allowed to go. When the elves all finally took their leave of these shores, she would be all alone to live out her existence among beings who ruined her family. Hastily wiping away her tears, she faced Celeborn once more.

"Do what you feel is best; I wash my hands of it." She then left, seeking out her private rooms.

Lord Celeborn watched her go, then did the same. He would need solitude and concentration to mind-speak with his dear friend. Closing the door to his rooms (he and Galadriel no longer shared a bed, his love for her waning since her interference with the Peredhel child), he sat with eyes closed, sending his thoughts out to Thranduil.

When their minds touched, Celeborn smiled as they welcomed each other. _'Thranduil—I have very good news.'_

TBC

Please review

Elvish Phrase Glossary:

Muindor/muindor-nin – Brother/my brother (family)

Yrch – Orcs (plural)

Námo – Another name for Mandos

Ellon – Male elf

Pen-vuil – Dear one

Edain – Men (plural of adan/man)

Carnil – Name of a (red) star (_Silmarillion_) Nimphelos – Name of a great pearl gifted by Thingol

Sinda – Singular of Sindar

Dúnadan – Singular of Dúnedain; also a name used to describe Aragorn in canon

Dúnedain – 'Edain of the West' or Númenóreans

Meleth – Lover

Ernilen – My Prince

Herven – Husband

Thranduilionnath – Sons (ionnath) of Thranduil

Tôr Dithen – Younger brother

Ada –Daddy (less formal of adar/father)

Tôr-neth – Little brother

Penneth – Little one

Saes – Please

Muindeir – Brothers

Herves-nin – My wife

Aman – 'Blessed Realm' of which Valinor is a part.

A/N: The terms tôr and muindor are both 'brother.' One (tôr) is considered more poetic or formal like adar as opposed to the more familiar 'ada.' Both terms refer to actual brothers born of the same parents or raised in the same family; there is the term 'gwador' which refers to a sworn brother or comrade—someone who is not an actual member of the family. Let me take this time to apologize for any errors I have made with the uses of English as well as Elvish (Sindarin or Quenya) as I have no beta and I am still learning (or discovering) Tolkien Elvish languages.

I would also like to thank with all my heart my loyal readers and reviewers for their lovely feedback. Your words of encouragement and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated; I endeavor to continue to earn your faith in me and will continue to try and entertain you with this very AU story to its conclusion. I have delegated my live journal at GreatestJournal as the place to find my responses to my anonymous reviewers w/o email addresses; I am grateful to the ones who provided theirs so that I could respond directly by email. I would encourage the others to do the same, but if you don't wish to, I understand; just follow the link in my profile to my account or go there directly—my username is the same as my penname Númenora. I will try and update again very soon as my RL permits (namely school).

Númenora


	10. Chapter 10 “Capitulation”

Another's Guilt by Númenora

Rating: NC-17, PG this chapter

Summary: See chapter one.

Disclaimers: I am NOT Tolkien. All known characters are his and the names of most or all OCs are Tolkien's as well.

Warnings: Remember, this is slash; Very AU Aragorn/Legolas Mpreg fiction. Major angst; un-betaed, all mistakes are mine. Please read chapter one for full warnings.

A/N: This chapter will deal with Aragorn and Legolas in Edoras; Éowyn, Théodred and King Théoden will be present, adding to the angst for our lovers. Just a brief explanation about two things: The first is that I was recently made aware that one 'Elvish' phrase that I have occasionally used i. e. 'coramin' (endearment/my heart) is not a Tolkien word, but one termed 'Grelvish' which is not actual Elvish (I never heard this before). So, I would like to apologize to my readers for any mistakes in Elvish or English, etc. that I make from now on.

The second point I'd like to put forth is this: When I use a word like slighter or slender when referring to Legolas, it does not mean that he is short or delicate or effeminate, etc. I only use these to show that compared to Aragorn and mortal men, his build is not broad, but like all Tolkien elves. In Faramir's case, he is slightly shorter than Boromir, Aragorn, Legolas and Éomer for instance, so for him, 'slighter' or slender will be a bit different, but not effeminate in any way (I am basing most of the main characters on the movie actors portraying them—more on this in later chapters). One final thing about Éowyn; remember that she is 18 years old and since Sauron and most of the Evil that plagued Middle-earth were defeated during the Last Alliance, she is not as war-minded as or as grim as in canon; but her fascination with swords and being able to protect herself is still present. In many ways, she is like Legolas (sheltered and somewhat naïve). Thanks.

Thoughts and stressed words in _italics_

Chapter 10

"Capitulation"

The trek from the White Falls was as a funeral procession. Horses and riders moving slowly and two-deep in a near straight line save where the two princes rode—their guards flanking protectively. Somber faces were worn by all (mirroring Aragorn's and Legolas') and talking was kept to a minimum except for the occasional order. And the only noises were comprised of the clip-clopping of shod hooves and the braying of their horses.

Aragorn glanced to his side to where Legolas rode astride a gray mare. Cerulean blue eyes met his briefly before turning away to stare ahead once more. The turmoil the Peredhel witnessed tore at his soul and he cursed himself for being the cause of it.

Legolas closed his eyes tightly in an attempt to push back his tears. The pain in his heart was nearly unbearable; he hated making Aragorn suffer. Desperate was the elf's desire to feel the Dúnadan's arms around him, holding him close as they often did atop Brego. But his guilt and shame kept them apart. Every moment Legolas spent wanting Aragorn was as a slap across the faces of his ada and muindeir who were so concerned for him. As they suffered, so must he and Aragorn—there was no other solution.

The Rohirric soldier riding up front the procession gave a glad whoop as the chief city of Edoras came into view. The delighted sound brought his companions out of their grave moods and the other Eorlingas soon followed suit upon seeing the welcome sight. Even Legolas and Aragorn forgot their troubles briefly and the group unconsciously hastened their pace. Seeing Legolas' smile as he watched the blond riders cheer, made the Gondoran Prince smile too and he joined in on the raucous cheering, spurring Brego into a gallop.

Less than an hour later, they all were passing through the city gates. From his position, Aragorn grinned widely as he spotted the Royal Family waiting atop the porch leading into Meduseld, King Théoden's Golden Hall. He could see Éowyn as she jumped up and down much as she always had since she was a small girl the closer the group came. His elvish sight clearly caught Théodred's roll of the eyes as well as Théoden-King's fond, indulgent smile at her delight.

Not able to stand it any longer, Éowyn tore down the stairs coming to stand atop the last few steps still bouncing and waving.

"Aragorn! Aragorn!" She shouted in joy.

"Éowyn," the Dúnadan said tenderly as he hopped down from Brego.

He had only gone two steps before he found himself with arms full of laughing Éowyn. Chucking in response, he swung her around and around before he kissed her forehead.

"Oh come now, Your Highness—you can do better than that!" Éowyn declared before kissing Aragorn squarely on the lips.

Aragorn laughed delightedly, spanking her bottom before setting her back on her feet. Legolas' heart tripped at the display, thinking that this girl had some claim to Aragorn. _What a fool I've been_, he thought. He had no way of knowing that Éowyn and Aragorn were making fun of Théodred and Boromir, both having witnessed the two in one of the stables a few years back as Boromir uttered those very words to the Second Marshal of the Mark before pulling the younger man into a passionate kiss.

Aragorn was sixteen at the time and Éowyn fourteen and they both found the show highly amusing and proceeded to act out what they had seen at dinner that very night to Théodred's and Boromir's chagrin before Aragorn and Éowyn fell to the floor laughing. The two didn't realize it, but their little play also saw the beginning of King Théoden's plans to make Éowyn Gondor's next queen. But the Greenwood Prince knew nothing of any of this and he nursed his already aching heart, reinforcing his vow to keep Aragorn at arms length.

"It is so good to see you again, but we did not expect you back for another month or so—where is Faramir?" Éowyn inquired, barely taking a breath.

"He said that he was going to join you, Boromir and Éomer at Outpost 40—did you see him?" She began looking behind Aragorn to check that she had not missed the handsome young man.

Spotting Legolas, her pretty blue eyes grew wide. "Who is that?" She blinked, smiling kindly before moving stand by Legolas' horse reaching her hand up the blond wood-elf.

"Hello there; my name is Éowyn and what is yours?" Legolas looked from the pretty young woman to Aragorn and back again.

He took her hand as he had recently learned was the way most men greeted each other, but he did not speak at first. Thinking that Legolas may be apprehensive to see his first ever mortal female, Aragorn came forward, followed by King Théoden and Théodred.

"Éowyn—I'd like for you to meet Prince Legolas of Greenwood the Great. Legolas—this is Lady Éowyn, Princess of the Riddermark."

Legolas smiled at Éowyn; he could not help but like her. "Hello, Hiril-nin—I am pleased to meet you," the wood-elf said in his heavily accented voice.

Aragorn stared at Legolas with naked love in his eyes; he could only see his beloved as everyone else melted into the background so he did not see Théodred's reaction to Legolas. The young, dark-blond stared with wide eyes much in the manner that Éowyn had; but there the similarities ended. Legolas was simply the loveliest being he had ever set upon and his attraction to the elf was instantaneous.

"You know, Aragorn—for a man of noble birth, your manners are sorely lacking!" Théodred quipped.

"Théodred!" King Théoden uttered, placing his hand on his son's shoulders.

He was used to Théodred, Aragorn and the rest of the Princes Band speaking thusly to each other, but he did not think it appropriate to do so in front of Legolas who was an Elven prince from afar.

Aragorn chuckled, for his friend was correct; he seemed to have forgotten his manners so he made up for it by introducing Legolas to Rohan's King and Heir.

"Here, Prince Legolas—let me help you down from there," Théodred offered as he reached up both hands to encircle the Sinda's waist, picking Legolas up and off his borrowed steed before he could say yea or nay.

Taking his sweet time, he finally set Legolas to stand on his own, but did not immediately release him—pretending to steady the beautiful elf.

Legolas blushed deeply as he stood before the handsome young man of Rohan, saying meekly, "Hannon le," stepping away.

If looks could kill, then Rohan would have been short one Second Marshal. Aragorn frowned darkly, eyes boring a hole through his dear friend. Not caring if Legolas protested or not, Aragorn grabbed his hand, pulling the slighter male close to him and away from Théodred.

Éowyn—ever the sharp one—observed the maneuver and smirked under her hand. Now how to act out this little scene to Faramir, Boromir and her brother when they returned, she pondered. This will be good!

"Legolas and I are a bit tired, not having slept much these past days, so I will escort him to the guest manor." Aragorn draped his arm protectively across the wood-elf's shoulders, turning him towards the afore mentioned domicile just to the left and beyond the main hall.

"I'll come, too!" Éowyn stepped next to Legolas, linking her arm with his, effectually pulling him from Aragorn's embrace.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

A short time later in the Guest House...

"I hope these rooms are to your liking, Your Highness," Éowyn gushed. "I've never before met an elf nor have I ever been to an Elven realm—which is redundant, isn't? Of course, if I've never met an elf, then I certainly wouldn't have visited one of your realms without running into at least one elf; unless you count Eregion that used to be an Elven realm, but isn't anymore—of course I haven't actually been there, but I did pass there once on my way to Tharbad when I was an infant with my parents; but of course, I don't remember that as I..."

Aragorn shook his head as he tried in vain to suppress a laugh at Éowyn's long narrative to Legolas. And Legolas smiled warmheartedly at her as she continued.

"...Is Greenwood as beautiful as I've heard? I mean, I have heard that it is incredibly beautiful so, is it? I've heard that it is so very green—which is why your father (or was it your grandfather) called it Greenwood in the first place—I've read that the mallorn trees have grown much larger there than those in Lothlórien; have you been to Lothlórien, Prince Legolas? What is wrong? What did I say?" Éowyn's eyes flew to Aragorn's in concern when Legolas made a cry of distress at the mention of Lothlórien.

"I think that perhaps we should wait until later when King Théoden and Théodred are with us to explain everything fully, but Legolas was on his way to the Golden Wood when he became separated from his brothers." Aragorn explained.

"I am so sorry—please forgive me for upsetting you!" She embraced Legolas catching him a bit off-guard, but it brought a smile to his face if only briefly.

"Aragorn?"

"Yes, My Lady?"

"If Legolas' brothers were on their way to Lórien when they lost him, why is he here in Edoras instead of there?" Éowyn asked logically.

"That will take some explaining as well, so I'd only like to repeat it once for all—is that alright, love?" He touched her cheek tenderly making her blush.

"Of course. I made sure that everything was readied for you after the messengers arrived with your instructions. There is fresh water, some food and the tailors and seamstresses worked tirelessly all night to get those garments you ordered ready—they are in your room, Aragorn. We didn't know about Legolas, so we may not have food to your liking, My Prince."

"I am sure all is fine," Legolas assured her quietly.

"Would you like for the servants to run bath water now?"

"Nay, Éowyn—I will help Legolas get settled."

"Very well, My Lord. I will see you later, Prince Legolas?"

"Please call me Legolas," the Elda offered, smiling.

Éowyn positively glowed before saying her goodbyes.

"She is lovely," Legolas said simply, but with a touch of sorrow.

Not understanding, Aragorn believed that his emotion was due to Éowyn's mentioning of Lothlórien. This only served to make the Dúnadan's guilt recur. He could not know that Legolas was under the impression that Aragorn and the Princess were involved.

"If you would like, you may have my rooms for the duration of our stay here; they are quite roomy. Or you may take the largest suite of rooms that are reserved for my father and Queen Gilraen, but neither has visited here since before..." Aragorn's pause was brief, but Legolas noticed, feeling sad for him. "...Since before I came to Minas Tirith. Either rooms would be suitable, Legolas."

"I do not wish to be a bother, Ernilen. I could take one of the others."

"Then I would suggest you take the one that Faramir uses—he is quite orderly and affable about sharing. Boromir is affable as well, but he is notorious for misplacing personal items and you may end up stepping on or sleeping on something dangerous. I swear, the poor servants here and back home take their lives into their own hands just entering a room he's in possession of." Aragorn's voice betrayed his great love for his cousins. And they loved him as well.

As much as King Arathorn loved his son and his nephews, he was guilty of not giving them as much attention as he should have as they were growing up. As for the Queen, her pain and bitterness left her with no love left for either child, especially Aragorn whom she deeply resented. This left Lord Denethor. While he claimed great love for Boromir, Denethor's affections bordered on avarice and arrogance where the young man's natural prowess as a soldier and leader of men were concerned; as if somehow Boromir's accomplishments here his.

And as for Aragorn—Denethor respected his position as Heir-Apparent and he admired the Prince's abilities that were similar to his eldest son; but Denethor never found it necessary to shower Aragorn with affection anymore than he did Boromir. Then there is Faramir. He of all was left with nothing in the form of parental love and devotion after his mother and then his grandfather King Arador died. So it fell to Boromir (a small child himself) to give Faramir the love and attention he needed and as the three lads grew, they became more dependent on each other. Many in the Kingdom wondered how they managed to be as goodhearted and caring with only themselves as guides; but they managed to do just that.

Legolas nodded and Aragorn showed him Faramir's rooms. As Legolas glanced around, Aragorn waved one young servant girl in with the wood-elf's meager belongings. He whispered instructions to her and she left the room, returning within minutes carrying a large stack of neatly folded garments; following her were two other servants with more clothing draped over outstretched arms. Seeing what the two men and young woman were delivering, Legolas looked askance to Aragorn.

"Once we arrived at the White Falls, I had two messengers sent here to make these rooms ready for our arrival; I also sent instructions for some clothing to be made for you. You should not have to continue wearing Faramir's borrowed things."

"But, how would they know these would fit me?" Legolas ran a pale hand down and across the lovely garments, touched beyond imagining at Aragorn's thoughtfulness.

"Some may need adjusting as I suggested they make them in Faramir's size, but to make allowances for your height which is nearly the same as mine." Aragorn watched the play of emotion across the blond's features.

"Thank you for your kindness...your thoughtfulness."

"You are most welcome, Pen-vuil." Aragorn thanked the servants, closing the door to the bedchamber after they left.

"Why don't you try some of these on to wear for tea this afternoon and for supper this eve? If any adjustments are needed, I can send for the Royal Tailor. In the meantime, I'll go run a bath for you." Aragorn said, turning towards the bathing chamber inside Faramir's suite.

"Nay, Aragorn—you should not wait upon me like a servant!" Legolas was scandalized at the notion.

"Tis a little thing for me, Legolas. As a healer and a Prince, I am trained to serve as well as to lead; but in your case, I _am_ your humble servant as well as your slave." Aragorn made his statements sound as a jest, but the look in his eyes showed the truth in his words.

"You must not say such things, Ernilen—not even in jest for I cannot bear it!" Aragorn came to his side immediately, taking Legolas' smaller hands into his own.

I do not mean to cause you stress; but I cannot lie about my feelings for you even if you have none for me." The Dúnadan cupped Legolas' lovely face, his thumbs wiping away errant tears.

"You should not be saying this to me nor touching me thusly; what of Éowyn?" Legolas attempted to pull away.

"What of her?" Aragorn was truly puzzled.

"She loves you," the blond Prince said, becoming angry on Éowyn's behalf.

"Aye and I love her, but so what?"

Legolas pushed Aragorn away from him, glaring in much the same manner as he had at the Falls after they had made love the day before.

"Is this how you treat those you love? Will I be next when someone else takes your fancy?"

At last Aragorn understood. "Legolas—why do you think that Éowyn is in love with me?"

"She kissed you before all just a short while ago and you laughed in joy—did I imagine that?"

"Nay, you did not. But t'was a game she and I have played before since we were still children." He could see that Legolas did not believe him, his explanation incomplete. So, Aragorn recounted the tale of Boromir and Théodred kissing in the stables and how he and Éowyn had witnessed it.

"So, you see, Legolas—it meant nothing. I love Éowyn, but like the sister I never had and he feels the same for me—another big brother to pester and make fun of before the whole world. I'm afraid that she is in love with Faramir, which will cause her great heartache before long." Aragorn said in sympathy.

"Why is that?" Legolas asked in curiosity.

"Because a marriage between a Dúnadan male and non-Dúnadan mortal woman is forbidden especially for the nobility and the Royal Family as we stand to lose the most by giving up our titles and any claim to the Throne of Gondor.

"A long time ago—from the time of Elros and then later after the Fall of Númenor—the Dúnedains have treasured the gift of long life granted by the Valar; considering it sacred. We have vowed to preserve that Gift and any who break this vow by marrying lesser mortals, loses their birthright as a true Child of Númenor. Any union where there will be offspring must be between two mortals that are Dúnedain or the Gift will be diminished by each generation that indulges until the blood of Númenor is forever spent."

"So, Faramir cannot marry Éowyn? Does she know this?" Legolas asked.

"She knows and King Théoden knows as well. It is a complicated situation because there is another who loves Faramir but has yet to say so." At Legolas' eager mouthing of 'who,' Aragorn smiled and said, "Éomer; and Faramir loves him, too."

"But would not Faramir be forbidden to wed him as well?"

"Nay, Legolas—it is not the same with those two. As the second son, Faramir does not have to produce an heir unless Boromir does not; and since both brothers are so young, Faramir could marry Éomer (whose life span is so much less) and still have as many as 300 plus years to beget a child with a Dúnadan female. His union with the 3rd Marshal would not bring forth any children to diminish the bloodline."

"I see." Pausing in thought, Legolas asked finally, "Since you are Peredhel, these rules do not apply to you, is this not so?"

"Only if I choose immortality. If I choose to be mortal, I would not be able to marry a non-Dúnadan female for the same reasons as my cousins; especially being Gondor's Heir. But even if I were to choose immortality, I would not marry Éowyn or any other person be they male or female; Dúnedain or Rohirric."

"But you must marry, Aragorn—your station demands it." Legolas pointed out.

"There is only one being that I would marry, but he does not love me—I do not believe he even likes me. So you see, I will never marry—ever, unless he deems me worthy of that love."

"Do not say this, Aragorn—saes..." Legolas shook his head, bringing his hands to his face as the pain and guilt he already felt doubled.

"I speak the truth. As Heir, I am expected to produce to further the Royal line, but that will never happen. My father may be forced to make Boromir his Heir-Apparent in my place. I would not oppose this as he would make a fine king.

"You may think that as a Peredhel, I could choose the life of the Eldar which would mean I could rule forever; but I would not choose to live so long if I cannot have you in my life—I would surely fade, Legolas. I still may, but I do not say this to hurt you or to put pressure upon you. I cannot make you love me if you do not and you cannot make me not love you, either. It is a cruel fact, A'mael—one that I must live with."

Aragorn walked to stand before Legolas again, reaching to finger a strain of silky, blond hair. He then turned towards the bathing chamber once more. Legolas stood trembling, hot tears running down his face.

"What have I done?" He whispered, covering his mouth with both hands as he felt a scream rise from deep within him.

Clutching his chest, the pain became too much and he collapsed onto the soft carpet, making not a sound as he stared at the ceiling, not really seeing it. All he could see were his ada, his brothers and Aragorn—he had hurt them all. He wanted desperately to die, but he knew that to do so would cause more pain to those he loved. He felt cold all of a sudden. Is _this what it feels like to fade?_ He prayed for release of some sort; but he knew not if it would come or in what form it would take. _Forgive me—please forgive me!_

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Inside the bathing chamber, Aragorn poured some bath salts into the hot water. He ran his hand through it as tiny bubbles foamed, filling the room with the smell of chamomile. _Perhaps the scent would calm Legolas._ _I am sorry for making you sad, Melethron—but I could not lie to you._ Turning off the taps, he opened the door to let the wood-elf know his bath was ready. But his words died before he uttered them as he saw Legolas lying on the floor. Aragorn fled the bath to kneel at Legolas side, pulling the elf into his arms.

"Legolas? Valar, no! Legolas, beloved—please speak to me! Please...please...please?" Aragorn repeated over and over.

"It...it...hur...hurts..." Legolas said barely above a whisper.

"Forgive me," Aragorn said, his mouth against Legolas' brow.

"Do not...toss away...your birth...right, _please_?" Legolas looked into Aragorn's eyes, begging him.

"I will not throw it away—worry, not." He scooped the smaller male into his arms and carried him to the bed.

"I am so cold—please hold me for a while."

Pulling a blanket over them, Aragorn held his love close to his body sharing his warmth. "I will you hold for as long as you wish; even until the ending of the world. I will make a promise to you Legolas; from this moment onward, I will put you first. No more selfishness on my part."

Aragorn looked into Legolas' eyes, but the wood-elf did not see him as he had slipped into reverie. Aragorn prayed to the Valar that he would find peace there. Legolas had not heard the Dúnadan's declaration, but Aragorn meant what he said—from that moment onward, he would put Legolas first no matter what this meant for him personally for he had resigned himself to a future with or without his beloved. One meant life and the other death—and Legolas would decide which.

TBC

Please review

**Middle-earth Phrase and Term Glossary:**

**Ada** – Daddy (familiar form of adar/father)

**Muindeir** – Brothers

**Eorlingas** – Sons of Eorl/name referring to the Rohirrim or Horselords of Rohan

**Hiril-nin** – My Lady

**Second Marshal of the mark/Riddermark** – Prince Théodred's title as Heir (Théoden being 1st and Éomer 3rd)

**Ernilen** – My Prince

**Pen-vuil **– Dear one

**Saes **– Please

**A'mael**– Beloved

**Melethron **– Male lover

**A/N:** I had hoped to have A/L finally consummating their love fully this chapter, but they would not cooperate; but at least they ended up in bed together! Next chapter there will be more angst and hopefully sex. Also, the elves will return, too.


	11. Chapter 11 “Restitution”

Anothers Guilt Chapter 11

Another's Guilt by Númenora

Rating: NC-17 this chapter

Summary: See chapter one.

Disclaimers: I am NOT Tolkien. All known characters are his and the names of most or all OCs are Tolkien's as well.

Warnings: Remember, this is slash; Very AU Aragorn/Legolas Mpreg fiction. Major angst; un-betaed, all mistakes are mine. Please read chapter one for full warnings.

A/N: This chapter will deal with Aragorn and Legolas in Edoras still; again, Éowyn, Théodred and King Théoden will be present, adding to the angst for our lovers and the elves will return (some new ones—I won't say who, but you'll see). There will be some OOC-ness again, but not so much so that the characters will be unrecognizable. But since this is AU, many things are different. Some more insight into Aragorn's birth will be revealed, too. This will be a longer chapter than the last one (yay!) and there will be some action of a sexual nature (grrr). And lots and lots of angst. So be warned!

Thoughts, dreams and stressed words _italicized_

******:****:** denotes a flashback and /or a dream sequence

Chapter 11

"Restitution"

Aragorn hummed an elvish lullaby as he held Legolas close to him. He had learned the song as a small boy from Mithrandir; the Maia was Aragorn's earliest instructor in Quenya and Sindarin (as well as other Middle-earth languages such as Dwarvish). As the melody flowed out sweetly, he could feel Legolas calm against his body beneath the blanket.

_**:****:**Legolas' eyes opened to the sound of birds chirping overhead—mingling with a childish voice giggling._

'_Will 'Da be joining us?' The voice asked. Legolas looked up to see a small child of five or six with dark, slightly wavy hair looking down on him as he draped his small frame over the branch of a large tree._

'_I do not know, Penneth,' Legolas said to the child who looked familiar to him, but he could not place from where they could have met._

'_I think that perhaps I should go hunt for him—can I, Ada?' The little boy was looking expectant towards Legolas. _

_The Prince was confused as to why this youngster called him 'Ada' but he did not think that one so young should be wandering about alone in this strange place. Legolas glanced about and deduced that he and the child were in a garden in a city of Men somewhere; he had seen many drawings and paintings of Númenor—vast stone buildings hewn out of the side of mountains such as this place. Before he could ponder it further, the boy spoke again._

'_What is wrong, Ada?'_

'_I do not know. What is your name, Penneth?' Legolas asked the child._

_He laughed at Legolas, saying, 'You should know my name for you gave it to me! Is this a new game, Ada? Should I get 'Da so he can play, too?'_

'_You should not wander about for you may get lost.' Legolas stared closely at the child thinking he did look so very familiar to him._

'_I shan't get lost as this is our home—you know this, Ada. Besides, my guard will be with me.'_

'_Your guard?'_

'_The one that Daerada sent from Greenwood to protect me!' The boy giggled as he scrambled down from his perch on the tree limb, finally coming to stand before Legolas._

_When he tilted his head to the side, grinning, Legolas smiled, too, for he now knew who this boy was. With eyes as blue as his own with nearly his complexion, the child was definitely his son. But then, he began to realize something else; this child was so familiar because of his smile. The lips were like Aragorn's and the hair as well, though not as wavy. _He is mine, _Legolas thought—mine and Aragorn's._

_Just then, a sweet Elven melody flowed around them as Legolas reached out his arms to his son. As the child came into his embrace, the wood-elf tucked the boy's head beneath his chin, cradling him close. _

'_This is where I belong,' Legolas whispered as the small arms squeezed him tightly._******:****:**

Legolas' arms squeezed Aragorn as he whispered aloud, "This is where I belong..."

"What is it you said, sweet Legolas?" Aragorn ran his knuckles along Legolas' pale cheek. When he received no answer, he started up his lullaby once more, gently rocking his beloved.

A few minutes later, there was a soft tap on the door. Quietly, Aragorn eased away from the resting Elda and tipped to the door. A young servant waited on the other side.

Seeing Aragorn's finger pressed against his lips, she whispered, asking if they needed her assistance before they joined King Théoden for tea.

"Nay. Please take this note to His Majesty forthwith."

Aragorn scribbled a few lines on a piece of parchment giving his regrets at missing tea. When the young woman had left, Aragorn returned to find Legolas moving restlessly on the bed. Once Aragorn had taken up his former position, the blond Prince calmed once more.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

King Théoden pushed aside the last of the signed papers before him; they were the last of some minor business postponed from earlier as he and his heirs awaited Prince Aragorn and his party. He was still overwhelmed at having met Prince Legolas of Greenwood. Imagine—an elf in Rohan! From what Éowyn relayed to him, he was quite disturbed on many levels.

First was the fact that Legolas had been separated from his family on the way Lórien. She said that she had asked Aragorn why he had not taken the Prince there instead of coming here to Meduseld—a very good question, for an incident such as this could cause Gondor and Arnor to go to war with the elves (much less led to bloodshed in the history of Middle-earth).

However, Aragorn did say that he would explain all to them later and Théoden looked forward to that explanation. But, what truly disturbed him was Éowyn's suggestion that Aragorn was in love with the beautiful ellon. He did not want to believe it, but the First Marshal of the Riddermark could not dismiss the possessive manner in which the dúnadan behaved towards Legolas just a short while ago.

_Why cannot these young ones behave in the manner best suited for them!_ He thought angrily before slamming his fist on the hardwood desk, causing the contents to rattle.

Éowyn, who was sitting curled in a large chair near the window, jumped at the sudden noise nearly dropping her book.

"Is something the matter, Uncle?"

"Nay, my dear. I was just thinking of something that needs to be taken care of that which has become an inconvenience—mind me not." He offered.

"If I can help you..."

"No—no, Éowyn; it will work itself out." His smile was reassuring and she smiled in returned.

A knock sounded at the door. "Enter."

The servant Aragorn dispatched came in with a brief, but respectful curtsy. "A note, My Lord," she handed the folded parchment to the King and waited.

"Thank you—that will be all," the monarch said as he scanned the paper once more.

As the young woman left, Éowyn came to her uncle's side. "Is it bad news?"

"Aragorn says that Legolas is ill and that they will not be joining us for tea; he sends his regrets, but hopes that they will be able to have dinner with us."

"I did not think that elves could become ill; at least this is what I have been told. Was I misinformed?" She gently took the note from King Théoden and read it for herself.

"Elves are impervious to the illnesses and maladies that men and other mortals suffer, but they can become ill when it involves the heart. They grieve quite easily and from what you have told me about his plight (being parted from his family and alone in this world of Men), then it is understandable that he is grieving."

"Then, perhaps, we can help him somehow; persuade Aragorn to take him home," Éowyn suggested.

King Théoden nodded at her recommendation. _Yes_, he thought. _Sending Legolas back home could cure Aragorn of this notion that he is in love with the elf_. He stood and took his niece's small hand and they left to go check on their guests.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Legolas became restless again and he reached for Aragorn's familiar form, but he felt only the cooled sheets of the bed on which he was lying. Eyes re-focusing, the beauty looked about the quiet room.

Sitting up, he rubbed his face, pushing back errant strands of pale-gold hair.

"I must look a sight," he whispered.

Just then, hushed voices coming from the main sitting room reached him. Legolas instantly recognized Aragorn smooth tones and then he heard Éowyn speak, her kind voice now familiar to the Sinda. There was another male as well, but Legolas did not know this voice. Scrambling from beneath his blanket on the large bed, he stood unsteadily onto his feet. Taking a deep breath, he walked over to a carved wooden stand where a stone pitcher and basin rested. Legolas poured out some water and splashed some on his face, immediately feeling better.

Next, he sat down at a mirrored table where his comb and other belonging were lying next to other grooming implements that must have belonged to Faramir. After lighting a candle, Legolas began the task of un-braiding his hair which was tangled and in disarray. It needed washing after their trek from the Falls—some of the plains they crossed were rather dusty—but it could wait for now. Once the braids and tangles were gone, he quickly re-braided the hair at his temples and replaced his comb onto the vanity.

_I should change my tunic at least_, he thought to himself and did just that; removing both it and the shirt he wore underneath. A quick wash in the basin, and Legolas donned some of the new garments Aragorn had made for him. Feeling presentable, he walked over to the door, preparing to join Aragorn.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"I have been quite selfish where Legolas is concerned and I am ashamed. But I will rectify that situation by taking him home tomorrow—if he is well enough." Aragorn sipped his wine as he stared at the carpet, not really seeing it.

"Oh, Aragorn—I am so sorry," Éowyn grabbed his hand, squeezing the fingers tenderly.

"I think this would be the best course, Your Highness; for the Prince's wellbeing and for Gondor's as well. I know that this is not uppermost in your mind right now, but you must know that an incident such as this could lead to war with Greenwood the Great and its allies. There has never been a war between men and elves on a large scale to my knowledge and I don't want one and I can't believe you do either."

King Théoden rested his hand on Aragorn's shoulder in a fatherly manner. When he arrived at the Guest Manor, his motive was a selfish one—to get Aragorn to see reason and send Legolas home so that Théoden's plans for making Éowyn Aragorn's bride could go forward. But seeing the Prince so distraught made him remember that he loved this young man like a son and wanted only his happiness. He felt for him and his infatuation with Legolas, but he also was a ruler and had his kingdom to think of.

Besides, if he and Legolas were meant to be, then once the elf was safely returned home, then perhaps formal arrangements could be made for a courtship between them—though he didn't see how with the strict Númenórean rules on marriage being in place. But this was a matter left for later and for the High King Arathorn. Now was the time for being prudent and avoiding war and bloodshed at all costs.

"I don't want war, no one does; but I worry for Legolas' life right now, so I will see him safely home."

"Aragorn?" Éowyn still had the young Prince's hand as she spoke.

"Yes, Love?"

"Are you sure that Faramir is well—I mean, that he will recover fully?"

"I would be willing to wager that he is up and about being most difficult with Lord Marach and Boromir, twisting them both around his fingers!" Aragorn laughed a genuine laugh—the first in many, many hours it seemed to him.

"Oh come now—you know that Faramir is not like that!" Éowyn laughed in Faramir's defense.

"I am glad that the truth concerning Legolas' involvement came out, as well as our dear Faramir surviving his ordeal," Théoden King said truly relieved. "There has been no word on the thieves that attacked him?"

"None since leaving Outpost 40. After we knew that Faramir would live and we drew closer to the post, I had men run ahead to make preparations for us and to gather a party to search for them. Had there been more men early on, we..." Aragorn paused as he realized that he was about to repeat a lie that he told to himself many times over the past weeks in order to justify keeping Legolas with him.

He began again, "No, if I had not been so stubborn in my belief that Legolas was at fault, we could have caught those evil men, and none of this would have happened." Tears had begun to fall and Aragorn buried his face in his hands and sobbed.

"Aragorn?" Legolas stood a few feet away from the seated trio. They all turned to him as he spoke, the men standing immediately.

Aragorn walked over to his beloved and touched his face to see if he was any better. "Are you alright, A'mael?" He gazed intently into the Prince's thick-lashed cerulean eyes.

"I am fine, but you are crying!" Legolas surprised Aragorn by throwing his arms around his neck tightly, making it nearly impossible for him to breathe. But the dúnadan Prince did not care in the least.

Éowyn stood with her hand on her heart, the dreamiest look on her lovely face. King Théoden's smile was bittersweet, knowing that what he wanted and what Aragorn wanted were at odds and also he worried that the Peredhel's Elvish half would cause him to fade if he and Legolas separated forever.

"I am fine, Legolas—truly. I was just so worried for you because of your...your earlier collapse. Are you truly well?" He pushed away slightly from Legolas so that he could see his face, but held onto the Prince, being loathed to feel the elf move away from him.

"I _am_ well, Aragorn." He paused and looked reassuringly to King Théoden and Éowyn. "There is something that I wish to tell you, but..." He paused again, looking shyly at the others.

"Then we should leave you," Éowyn quickly uttered, tough she was curious to know what Legolas wanted to say. But her romantic nature won out, wanting to give Aragorn and Legolas time to themselves. She knew that the Gondoran was in love with the elf, but she could clearly see that his feelings were returned by the concerned and adoring look that Legolas wore.

"Yes, Éowyn—you are correct. Aragorn; will you and Legolas be joining us for supper? I had a feast planned for later, but if you feel this is too much, then it can be an intimate affair with just family." The older male offered.

"Legolas—what would you prefer?" Aragorn inquired.

Legolas remembered his dream and became so filled with joy that he wanted to celebrate; and as soon as he told Aragorn about it, he knew that his love would want that, too.

"Please do not change your plans on my behalf; a feast sounds lovely and I am rather hungry! Take care that I save some food for the rest of you," he laughed, the sound enchanting.

"Legolas," Aragorn breathed in awe.

He smiled at Legolas' happy mood; but then, he felt he knew the reason for the change. Legolas must have heard him say that he (Aragorn) would take him home—that Legolas would be reunited with his family once more. _Remember your pledge, Aragorn_, he admonished himself. _You said that you would place Legolas first before all others, which includes you, especially._

"Wonderful, wonderful! King Théoden boomed. "We will see you both in a few hours. Come, Éowyn," he placed her hand in the crook of his arm and they turned to go.

"I'll see you out, My Lord," Aragorn offered, but the King waved him off.

"You see to Legolas and yourself; you don't look as if you have rested since arriving here."

"Very well, My Lord." Aragorn and Legolas watched as the Rohirric Royals left. "You are sure you suffer no ill effects from earlier?" The dúnadan was still worried after finding Legolas in pain on the floor.

"I am well, Aragorn—so very well, indeed and you are the cause," the blond stated, his beautiful face beaming.

"Then you heard what I said to Éowyn and King Théoden—that I would take you home on the morrow?"

Legolas' smile vanished as he heard this. "You will take me home tomorrow?" His voice was just above a whisper and his eyes widened in shock.

"Yes, Pen-velui. I pledged to you as I held you that you will come first this day onward. You told me very plainly at the White Falls that you missed your ada and brothers and that you made them suffer. But you were wrong—it was I who did this.

"I kept you from them because I wanted you with me—I still do. But, what I want is no longer paramount, sweet Legolas—you are and I will see you back home in the arms of your loved ones. I have already informed Girion to ready the men for travel at first light. Now that the feast will go forward, I must tell them to go lightly on the ale this eve." Aragorn chuckled, but his heart was breaking.

"But what of Faramir? I promised to help identify those men who attacked him; how will he find justice if I do not go to Minas Tirith to give testimony?" Legolas began to panic and his voice wavered.

"Faramir can give _his_ testimony and descriptions of the brigands since he saw them up close. I did a disservice to you when I placed this burden upon you; I did not know it at the time (or I chose to ignore it), but I wanted you with me so badly, that I exaggerated the importance of your eyewitness testimony. I am ashamed, Legolas, and I don't expect you to forgive me for it; I do hope that you will accept my apology."

Legolas was conflicted. He was again angry with Aragorn for manipulating him so, but he was also moved by his sincerity. He wanted to see Ada, Arminas and Oropher again, but he loved Aragorn and wanted to stay with him as well. They belonged together—seeing their son in his dreams made that plain to Legolas. But, now Aragorn was taking him home and this filled him with such sadness. He knew that once his family had him back, he would never again leave Greenwood and he would never again see Aragorn; especially when King Thranduil learns of his Little Leaf's ill treatment at the hands of these Men. That Aragorn would confess all, Legolas was not in doubt for he was noble and good. _By the Valar—Ada will lock Aragorn away in the dungeons for the rest of his long life!_

"Legolas, what is wrong?" The wood-elf had gone paler than his normal state. "I know that what I just confessed is difficult to hear and, as I said, I don't expect you to forgive me; but know that my remorse is genuine."

"I believe you, Aragorn and I do forgive you." A tear fell and Legolas hastily wiped it away. "I don't want you to take me home, Aragorn. I wish to stay with you and go to Gondor." Legolas said firmly.

"I don't understand," Aragorn said, truly perplexed. Then, he said, "It is because of what I said about giving up my birthright, isn't it? Because I said that I would never marry? You mustn't worry about that Legolas; I will do what is best for Gondor and for me—fret not, A'mael."

Legolas shook his head, but Aragorn merely smiled and kissed him gently on his perfect lips. "I stink!" Aragorn laughed through his pain; he desperately wanted to accept Legolas' declarations, but he would not backslide on his promise.

"Will you be alright on your own for a bit—I wish to bathe and rest a while before tonight's celebration. You have never witnessed one of King Théoden's feasts, so you have no idea of how much dancing and drinking and carousing we are in store for! We will need all the rest that we can get—for tonight and for our journey." The last came out a bit strained, but Aragorn smiled to cover it.

Legolas nodded and watched as his love walked away and entered his rooms. After a long pause, just staring at the Gondoran's closed door, the young ellon turned towards his borrowed rooms. He sat silently on the bed's edge for a while, staring at his booted feet. After what seemed like hours, he heard his door open—Aragorn was framed by it, his look uncertain.

Legolas smiled warmly, holding out a pale hand which was quickly engulfed by Aragorn's larger, tanned one. Without saying a word, they climbed onto the huge bed and lay in each other's embrace, Legolas' ear against the Peredhel's chest. Aragorn's steady heartbeat was calming like the lullaby he hummed earlier. Both males were extremely sad, but they took comfort in the presence of the other, relishing the time that they still had left.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

_Rivendell_

Lord Elrond gave Lord Glorfindel last minute instructions concerning their morning departure for Greenwood. His head was hurting and he frowned deeply, but he ignored it for the time being.

"I think that we should take as small a contingent as necessary; this is a grave matter, but I don't want to encourage Thranduil to feel the need to go to war over this. Legolas is precious to us all, but I can feel that he is safe and that the Gondorans..." He paused briefly before continuing, "...Mean him no harm. Diplomacy is what is needed here."

"I understand, Meldir-nin," The Balrog Slayer said, concerned etched clearly on his handsome face. He could see the pain his friend still felt from long ago.

They both turned at the rustle of soft fabric. Arwen, Lord Elrond's daughter, stood just inside the doorway, her beautiful face very anxious. Glorfindel acknowledged her presence with a nod, but Lord Elrond's only response was the tightening of his lips before turning back to the blond warrior before him.

"I wish to leave before first light." He said firmly.

"As you wish, Hir-nin." Glorfindel bowed respectfully to his Lord and friend, then left the study.

"Ada?" Arwen called to her father. "Ada, please!"

"What is it that you want, Arwen?" His voice was tired—he did not want to talk with her again. "We said all there is to say last night and the night before!"

She cringed at his tone, his anger barely restrained. "Please do not go to Gondor; there is only pain and strife there. Wounds that have barely healed will be torn open again—you must see that!" Her deep blue eyes were pleading.

Elrond remembered a time when that look could melt his heart and he would be hard-pressed to deny her anything. But times had changed and it took everything within him to find the love he bore for his only daughter. In many ways, he felt that she was no longer a part of his family.

"What would you have me do, Arwen? Abandon Legolas, leaving him alone among the people of Gondor? You may have no qualms about throwing away an innocent child, but I do!" The venom in his voice made her flinch as if he'd physically struck her.

Before King Thranduil had appealed to Lord Elrond to help bring Legolas back home, Arwen's and her ada's relationship was one of tense civility; having progressed from fiery anger and then a coldness that threatened to destroy her. But now, the anger was back and Arwen did not know if she could go through the turmoil of the last twenty years again. Many times she contemplated following her mother to Valinor, but she would always reject it, wanting to stay with her father—hoping that they would find each other again someday. Someday, it seems, would never come now.

"Will you never forgive me, Ada? How long will you make me pay for my sins? I have begged your forgiveness over and over, but you refused every time. And now..." Arwen's whole body shivered as if cold as she looked at the merciless stare etched on the Peredhel's handsome visage.

"You may have gotten past what transpired, but I have not. Your mother knew that what you and she did was wrong—cruel—which is why she fled to Valinor. Why you stayed is beyond me." He turned to begin packing away a few books and parchments on Gondoran law and diplomacy as well as some of his journals on healing.

"I had hoped that we would find our way back to each other, Ada—that is why I stayed here with you."

"You were mistaken. Your presence only serves to remind me of my failures in rearing you. You were always more your mother's—no—your grandmother's than mine; your actions proved it. You did not think to consult me before you sent that helpless, precious child away like so much garbage. No—you allowed Galadriel to make that decision; you _and_ your mother did."

"But why can you not _try_ to forgive us?" Arwen alternately reached out with her hands before bringing them back, wringing them nervously.

"Because the one to whom you caused the greatest harm should hear you beg for _his_ forgiveness. Your mother chose not to stay to make restitution and your grandmother has never shown the smallest bit of remorse."

Taking a calming breath, Elrond continued. "You say you are sorry—then prove it! Come with me to Minas Tirith and tell Estel what you did. Explain it to _him_ for I have heard it all before! If he decides to pardon you, then I may as well—but not now."

Arwen sat down heavily on a nearby chair. Should she go to Gondor as Ada suggests? Estel's tiny, beautiful face swam before her eyes. She could still feel him wiggle in her arms, his sweet scent filling her senses as she kissed his hair. _I should not have listened to Grandmother, Estel—I am sorry._ Arwen was afraid to go, for she did not think that she could bear any more hatred or scorn.

"I cannot, Ada—please do not make me go there to face him!" She pleaded.

Elrond smile was cruel, but there was hurt also—and regret. "When could I ever make you do anything you did not want to do? Not when you were an elfling, not ever—I spoiled you and let you stay too much within Galadriel's influence. All those centuries I let you live with her and her bitterness; I lost you back then—I just refused to acknowledge it. By the time you returned to me, there was nothing of me left in you."

"That is not true, Ada! I am still yours; I thought that sending him away was the best thing for our family—I believed her. But I still love you and I am yours..."

"_Enough_, Arwen! Saes—enough. I have more packing to complete and there is no time for this." She could see how weary he was, so she nodded her understanding as he walked from the room.

"Estel..." She closed her eyes as that sweet face appeared to her again; it haunted her so those first years that her Elven dreams were nightmares and offered no peace or rest.

_**:****:**Flashback: Lothlórien _

_Arwen watched in sadness as Galadriel handed a blanketed bundle over to Gandalf. The Istari frowned at the beautiful elleth whose face was as cold as the winter just past._

"_The child should be raised in Gondor by his father and his own kind." _

"_He is part elf and is among his own kind," Gandalf pointed out._

"_If you do not wish to deliver him—" _

"_I will take him, My Lady." The wizard moved the soft blanket aside to gaze at the newly born infant, a smile making his face seem younger. But his smile faded as he looked at first Galadriel and then Arwen standing a ways beyond near a mallorn._

_Arwen could not hold his gaze and dropped her own, a tear rolling down her pale cheek. She glanced up as the wizard began speaking again._

"_Come, Shadowfax—let us be off to Minas Tirith." Then glancing at Arwen, "A child deserves to be loved and treasured; your father will welcome you."_

_With that, the wizard and the King of the Mearas left the Golden Wood. That was the last Arwen saw of the child that would become Aragorn, Heir-apparent of Gondor._******:****:**

"Perhaps one day you _and_ Ada will forgive me!"

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

_Meduseld _

Legolas' eyes refocused from his reverie. He smiled as he felt Aragorn's breath brush across his forehead, the Peredhel continuing his slumber. Legolas leaned up to stare at the beloved face, marveling again at the strangeness of the sleep of Men. The Gondoran was part elf, but he shared many traits of his father's people.

_Will our son share as many?_ Sadness washed over the wood-elf as he realized that their sweet child may never be born; not if Aragorn follows through with his plan to take Legolas to Lothlórien. _I cannot let this be so!_

Biting gently on his bottom lip, the elf Prince made a decision. Running a pale hand along Aragorn bearded cheek, Legolas brushed a soft kiss against his beloved's slightly parted lips. Carefully extracting himself from Aragorn's embrace, the Sinda got down from the soft bed and walked to the bathing chamber. Once the door was shut, Legolas looked about him for—_there!_ In a small chest beside the bathtub were bottles of oils in varying fragrances. After sniffing one after the other, the Elven Prince chose one with the lightest of the scents, placing it on a small table.

Legolas began removing first his boots and then his clothes, blushing as he did so. _Courage, Legolas—courage._ Spreading his legs apart, he uncapped the oil and quickly coated his fingers with it. He briefly closed his lovely eyes before reaching behind to his backside. Slender forefingers ran along the cleft seeking the entrance. Legolas remembered his brother's lessons on how to couple with another male, paying special attention to whether or not a child is to be the result.

Relaxing his lower half and thinking of Aragorn and what the Peredhel meant to him (as well as their love-making from the day before), a finger pushed inside moving in and out. He went easily as he was still very unused to such manipulations. He searched out that part of him that Aragorn touched which gave the elf such pleasure; he gasped as his slender fingers found the spot. Several passes had him panting and aroused; when his entrance was well oiled and relaxed, Legolas removed his fingers from inside of him. Applying more of the oil, he moved his hand towards his front to enter himself again; this time he searched for another hidden part of him.

Few knew that some male Elven Royals had the ability to bear children; and of those few, many knew not the mechanics of how this phenomenon is possible. Though many non-elves believed the myth of Elven promiscuity, the truth was that most elves (especially these gifted Royals) were quite modest and secretive about sex. So it would be quite shocking to most to know that, like females, elves like Legolas had another entrance—theirs hidden inside of the nether portal. It was quite small—more slit than channel—but it was important as it allows the sire's seed to reach the male womb. And after conception, it will become much larger as the child grows and serve as the birth canal.

It was this slit for which the Prince now searched. His fingers pushed at it to widen it enough so that, when he coupled with Aragorn, the seed could flow through it and their child could be formed. When Legolas was convinced the opening was sufficient for him to conceive, he withdrew his questing digits. He recapped the oil, holding it in his right hand, and left the bathing chamber. Entering the darkening room, Legolas realized that the sun must be setting for weak bands of gold streamed through the large window across the bed and his beloved Aragorn. The Sinda forwent lighting candles, not wanting to chance waking Aragorn until Legolas as ready. As an elf, his feet rarely made noises upon floors, especially ones with rugs; but even so, Legolas stole quietly towards his bed, barely making the mattress dip as he climbed up and straddled the sleeping Gondoran Prince.

Legolas stared at Aragorn with undisguised love. "For our family, A'mael."

Aragorn never stirred as Legolas undressed him. In fact, he thought he dreamed of soft caresses and kisses against his flesh. A light moan escaped Aragorn's parted lips as his nipples were suckled and his sides were stroked by gentle fingers, making his back arch towards the loving lips and nibbling teeth. A delighted smile touched the dúnadan's lips as pleasure shot through his body. Aragorn's large hands moved down his chest and over his stomach until they came to rest on silken hair. Entwining his fingers in the soft tresses, the Peredhel gently pushed the head down to where his swollen member lay throbbing.

"Ah, yes—more!" Aragorn gasped and then cried out loudly as he was engulfed in warmth. _I dream—what pleasure!_

As the sweet mouth continued to suckle, Aragorn growled deep within his chest from the sheer bliss. His eyes remained closed, convinced that this was some erotic dream like the one weeks before; but a frown briefly crossed his face as his member was released from the wet warmth only to fly open when he felt a different warmth—warmth and extreme tightness.

"Legolas? What...what are you doing? Oh no, beloved—you must not!" But it was too late.

Aragorn could see the pain and determination on the young ellon's face; determination and love. He could not let this continue or Legolas would do great damage to himself.

"Please stop, my love—you are hurting yourself," Aragorn pleaded.

"I love you, Aragorn. I do not wish to go to Greenwood, for Gondor is to my home now—with you and our son."

"Our son? Legolas, what are you saying?" Aragorn grabbed Legolas around the waist, strong hands halting his descent on the Peredhel's shaft.

"When you held me earlier, before Éowyn and king Théoden came, I saw our son, Aragorn. He was beautiful; he had your hair and your smile and my eyes. We were in Minas Tirith and I reconised him—that he was ours. I knew then that we belonged together—you and I."

The look of desperation on Legolas' beautiful face made Aragorn's heart squeezed within his chest.

"You love me, Legolas?" Aragorn did not trust the hope at first for he wanted this so.

However, the love in Legolas' beautiful eyes showed the truth of his words. Whether Legolas did see their child or did not, Aragorn did not know; but he did believe the elf wanted a life with him. He hesitated only a moment more before lifting the wood-elf off of him.

Tears sprang to Legolas' eyes when this happened, thinking that Aragorn did not believe him. But, his breath caught in his throat as he found himself lying on his back and Aragorn kissing his mouth passionately. Legolas threw his arms around Aragorn's neck and wrapped his finely shaped legs around the Gondoran's waist.

Aragorn wanted their first time to be special; he wanted to take his time, but the passion he felt in reaction to what Legolas did and was still doing to him spurred him to consummate their love.

"I need oil—"

"Here!" Legolas pushed the bottle into his beloved's hand. Aragorn arched a brow at the elf.

"You were prepared, weren't you?" He teased playfully, making Legolas blush.

But soon the teasing stopped and his desire took over. As Aragorn oiled his hand and fingers to coat himself, he gazed deeply into Legolas' eyes. "Are you certain, Meleth? We can stop this before it goes further."

"I am certain, beloved—please love me?"

Another ardent kiss and the Peredhel oiled himself thoroughly; then he reached between Legolas' legs to find his entrance. Finding it well oiled, Aragorn smiled again knowingly at Legolas, eliciting another blush. He kissed Legolas tenderly and moved between the elf's shapely legs. Aragorn's strong hands hooked under flawless knees, pushing them back, draping each one over his broad shoulders. Aragorn kissed the flesh of his beloved's inner thighs before taking himself in hand and pressing against Legolas' puckered entrance.

Legolas felt a momentary panic when he felt Aragorn's thick organ enter him again, as the hurt was so great before. However, the pain this time was minimal as the Gondoran Prince took great care with him. By the strained look he wore, Legolas knew that Aragorn was concerned for his wellbeing. Smiling his love and appreciation, Legolas kissed Aragorn, and then urged him onward. Aragorn slowly and carefully resumed his forward motion; Legolas was warm and impossibly tight. The Peredhel stopped when he reached the guardian ring of muscle; then one final push breached it, Aragorn becoming fully sheathed in the tight heat.

Legolas whimpered in pain, but pleasure soon followed as Aragorn found that place that made his elf moan in delight the day before. Taking the Sinda's legs from off his shoulder, Aragorn held each firmly in his grasp, bending them at the knees before pushing them back, giving him leverage to go deeper into Legolas. With perfect aim, Aragorn struck the spot over and over again, sublime ecstasy spurring Legolas' body to rise to meet him thrust for thrust. The room grew impossibly loud as their fervor mounted; Aragorn knew that he would not last much longer, but he wanted to make this good for Legolas, too. Taking aim again, the Peredhel Prince hit the tiny bundle of nerves relentlessly causing the wood-elf's smaller frame to bucked and writhed beneath him, finally screaming out as he found his release.

Aragorn soon followed, the elf's grasping tunnel milking his plunging shaft, undoing the Gondoran as hot fluids surrounded him—searing, as if marking him as Legolas' and no one else's.

They both smiled, satisfied and sated; releasing the slender, pale thighs from his firm grip, Aragorn buried his nose in Legolas' silky hair—the smell of honey and warm cream filling his soul.

Trembling, Legolas whispered in his soft, husky voice, "I love you, Aragorn—my Husband."

TBC

Please review.

A/N: It has probably been a while since most of you read Aragorn's erotic dream in chapter 3; A/L's coupling here parallels that one to bring them full-circle, so to speak. The next chapter will bring everyone closer to this story's conclusion; eventually solving the mysteries surrounding Aragorn's birth.

I apologize for the extra-long delay in finishing this chapter and updating the fic. Many of you know about my family crisis and the long process I had to go through to get back to this point where I can write again. With that said, I will try and be more prompt with getting the next ones done. I hope to be finished in two chapters. But we will see! Thanks for your patience.

Middle-earth Phrase and Term Glossary:

Mithrandir – Another name for Gandalf (grey pilgrim)

Maia – Singular of Maiar...

Penneth – Young one

Daerada – Grandfather

Ellon – Male elf

A'mael – Beloved

Pen velui – Lovely one

Peredhel – Half-elf (elven) singular

Meldir-nin – My Friend (male)

Hir-nin – My Lord

Saes – Please

Estel – Hope (Name given to Aragorn in Canon and also in this AU story.

Elleth – female elf

Mearas – Noble breed of horses of Rohan that lived as long as a Man.

Istari – Another name for wizard.

A'maelamin – My beloved

Meleth – Love/lover


	12. Chapter 12 “Extenuations”

Title: Another's Guilt 12/

Another's Guilt by Númenora

**Pairing**: Aragorn/Legolas

**Rating**: PG this chapter

**Summary**: See chapter one.

**Disclaimers**: I am NOT Tolkien. All known characters are his and the names of most or all OCs are Tolkien's as well.

**Warnings**: Remember, this is slash; AU, Mpreg, a bit OOC (Aragorn), Violence. Un-betaed, all mistakes are mine.

**Summary**: On a diplomatic mission to Lothlórien, Legolas gets separated from his kin during an Orc attack. He wanders lost for several days until he comes upon a human, stabbed and left for dead by thieves. When the man's relatives find the elf covered in his blood, the elf is captured and accused of the crime. Will the injured man live long enough to clear him or will the Prince pay the price for the misdeed of unscrupulous men?

**A/N**: This chapter is all about fleshing out minor characters and introducing characters who have only been mentioned so far: Namely the fathers Kings Arathorn and Thranduil and Aragorn's stepmother Gilraen. We will be visiting Rivendell and Lothlórien again with an appearance of Erestor with Arwen; more will be learned about Haldir's and Oropher's friendship; and we will catch up with Faramir, Éomer and Boromir.

In chapter 5, I equated Númenórean age with what Tolkien once wrote about Elves (that Elves and Men develop physically at the same rate until maturity, but then Elven bodies slow down and stop aging physically (which contradicted what he had previously written in _Laws and Customs_). This does not work for me. My elves age differently. As Lord Marach stated to Aragorn, it takes full elves longer to age than mortals. Remember that Legolas at 700 is equal in age to a 16 or 17-yr-old mortal. This will explain Oropher's ages mentioned this chapter.

I am introducing another original character (who is modeled after an OC in another one of my stories called _The Haunting_ and Gandalf will make a brief appearance, too. Now for the timeline of the happenings: The evening is approximately the same time as the one that Aragorn and Legolas spent at the White Falls in Rohan; the morning and afternoon hours coincide with A & L's first day in Meduseld. No Aragorn and Legolas (sorry, ya'll) although they will be the spoken of by almost all the folks in this chapter.

_Italics_ denote thoughts and stressed words

Chapter 12

"Extenuations"

_Minas Tirith_

Light from the flames in the fireplace played across a long, thick, heavy strand of ebony hair, highlighting its bluish tints. Arathorn always marveled its softness, the scent of its original owner still clinging to it.

"How I miss you; how I still love you so very much. Twenty-one years and it still hurts." The King buried his face in his hands, the tresses soaking up silent tears from cheerless blue-green eyes.

"Weeping over your Imladrian whore again, are you, husband?" Gilraen's pretty face, marred by the bitterness and sorrow that were her constant companions, held no sympathy for the man she married.

"What do you want, woman? I've no desire to trade barbs or to argue with you this eve." Arathorn's tone was even and low, but the censure was clear.

That was the way it was between them; the way it had always been—at least since Aragorn was a small child. In his personal pain of lost love and feelings of betrayal, he failed to notice Gilraen's sorrow and her hatred and resentment of his only son. It was only after Finduilas died, that he began to realize—Gilraen refusing to care for Aragorn. Even this knowledge did not allow him to blame her; that is, until a 7-year old Aragorn came to him and asked him who his mother was. The young boy told him that his stepmother said that he was part elf and that his true mother had not wanted him; it was after this, that his conflicts with her grew. First, it was heated arguments and open hostility (his resentment at having to marry her coming to the fore); but later, after King Arador died making him King and after Aragorn grew up, their interaction was reduced to Gilraen trying to punish him with her words and resentment and Arathorn ignoring her for the most part. Any guilt and compassion he felt for his not loving her dissolved when she took their discord and failed marriage and involved Aragorn in it—blaming the child for his (Arathorn's) sins.

"Oh, please, Your Majesty—_forgive_ me for intruding on your most private wallowing," Gilraen mock sarcastically.

"You forget yourself, woman! I am still your King; and Queen or no, you are subject to my rule and not exempt from being tried for treason."

She wore a derisive smile—pleased that she was able to elicit some emotion from him, not always being successful in this. "I do not fear retribution, Arathorn; and, I doubt that you will give me a forum to remind everyone that I am the wronged party in this."

"The only true party wronged in this is Aragorn. No one will feel sympathy for you because of your ill treatment of my son!" Wiping a hand across his forehead, a headache forming, the King tried to calm himself. "Was there a reason you decided to grace me with your company?"

The coldness in his stare signaled Gilraen that his patience was gone; he would tolerate nothing more from her and she would get nothing more from him. "Since you made yourself unavailable this day, your Steward has had to handle the Affairs of State in your absence."

"That is his duty as Steward—what of it?"

"He is not King. If you were ill or away from the city, there would be no concern; but, you are neither and your subjects worry. It has not been so very long since King Arador passed from Arda, his grief over your sister so very great. Your people draw parallels between you and he and Denethor cannot allay their fears. You should give up this yearly bout of self-pity over the loss of your great love affair with your Elven wh…" She broke off what she had planned to say, raising a hand in concession, not wanting to stray from her point for coming to see him.

"You have a Kingdom to look after, Your Majesty—people who need you. Let go of the past and give them your full attention."

"I give to my people and I serve Gondor quite well; so if I need a day or two out of the year for me, that is my affair. Denethor and my Council of Advisors and ministers are very capable of seeing that Gondor does not perish in my absence. Your concern is duly noted. Now, leave me—I wish to be alone." His tone was dismissive and it brooked no arguments, especially from Gilraen.

"As you wish, _Lord_." Her words and curtsey were ironic and slightly mocking; however, he either did not notice or he simply had already dismissed her from his thoughts—the latter more likely.

As she left his sitting room, her façade slipped and the old hurt nearly overwhelmed Gilraen; but years of practice kept her from showing it to the guards outside of the King's quarters and others that crossed her path.

Back inside, Arathorn allowed himself to grieve once more the loss of the only person he ever loved, the ebony lock of hair clutched to his breast as memories of the past besieged him. "This is all I have of you. No—that is not true; I have Aragorn. I wish you could know him. Perhaps, one day…"

ooooooooooooo

_Rivendell_

Arwen stood in the courtyard near the gate, a faraway look upon her face. _Not_ so very far away: A city of white stone with the beautiful spawn of Nimloth (the great White Tree of Númenor) standing guard before the citadel. She played there once as a child in a beautiful garden. Did Aragorn play there as gaily years ago? Did he find comfort—the comfort that comes only from home and love? Does he still?

"Could you have found those here among us?" Arwen asked of one who could not hear her.

"My lady?" Erestor's beautiful dark eyes showed concern at the pain reflected on her pretty face. "Are you well, Lady Arwen?"

"I shall be—someday," she answered with a bit of irony. "Please do not worry, my lord. I will be fine when I get to Lothlórien."

"I am pleased that you changed your mind about going there. Your brothers should be there by now, having left days before your father left for Greenwood. Perhaps when the child is found, the celebration will go forward."

"Child?" Her pale face lost all color of a sudden and she swayed, Erestor catching her before she could fall.

"Prince Legolas, my lady. Come, sit down here." He led her to a stone bench, taking her cold hands into his warm ones. "What is it? Perchance I can help you."

"Can you change the past, my lord? It has come back with a vengeance to haunt me."

"You speak of the Gondoran Prince, Aragorn."

"Legolas may be in his company; and Adar…" Her voice broke.

"Lord Elrond has agreed to act as liaison between Greenwood and Gondor—yes, I know. Your adar told me what has transpired," he said sympathetically.

"My past sin demands a reckoning that I would escape if I could."

"That is not wholly true, my lady. You could have gone to Valinor with your naneth, but you stayed here. That shows much courage."

"You are kind to say so, but the truth is, I am not courageous at all. I did not accompany my mother because of Daernana Galadriel. She cannot go there and she made me promise to remain here. I also hoped to get Adar's forgiveness for what I did. I have failed."

"He may yet." Erestor said hopefully for her sake, but without much conviction. .

"I do not believe so." Arwen was defeated, tears flowing freely.

"Would you prefer to leave tomorrow? We can delay our departure for a few days."

"No, my lord. Let us leave as planned; I could use my Daernaneth's counsel for what is to come." Her smiled was watery, tears still flowing.

Feeling steadier, she mounted her mare and the party of elves left the Last Homely House for the Golden Wood. Arwen had not been back there since Aragorn was sent away, so she felt some trepidation. However, she was determined to go; and, perhaps there will be chance for her to make amends somehow. Only time will tell.

ooooooooooooo

_Outpost 40_

"Éomer, put me down," Faramir tried to sound stern, but the unrepentant, charming smile gracing the 3rd Marshal's handsome face made Faramir want to smile as well.

"I shall when we reach our destination and not a moment before!" Holding Faramir closely up in his arms (ever mindful of his injury), Éomer began whistling a jaunty tune as he made his way through the corridor that had led him to (and now away from) Faramir's quarters. A few twists and turns later, Faramir became restless and a tiny bit perturbed.

"Éomer—this is not necessary," he said through clinched teeth as the whistling grew louder.

A few rangers and Riders of Rohan smiled as the pair passed, especially the soldiers from Rohan. They were used to seeing such displays between members of the Princes Band, but they never tired of witnessing it.

"How much longer, Lord Marshal? I _am_ capable of walking, you know?"

"You are not—at least not without help. You are still mending after all, dear Steward-prince." The whistling resumed.

"I swear, between you and Boromir, I am liable to forget how to walk on my own altogether." He tried frowning, but Éomer's wink made him laugh. "Can you at least tell me if we are close?"

"Just through yonder door." Faramir knew that that particular one led to a courtyard outside; this one had been turned into a garden (being at peace for many, many years), while the other one was still used to train would-be rangers and soldiers.

Once through the large door, and down a few steps, the beautiful garden came into full view, making the lovely red-haired diplomat gasp. Besides the well-tended grounds that was a marvel in so stark a place, there was a covered pavilion newly constructed, draped by gauzy white cloth; a comfortable chair (made for lounging) with fluffy pillows was flanked by a low table and a bench. Fruit, bread and cheese along with a flagon of sweet wine sat atop the table beside a vase of fragrant flowers from the many flowering bushes nearby.

"What is all of this?" Faramir said in delight.

"Lord Marach said that you can have something more substantial than soup and porridge. It is simple enough fare for you to digest while being a delight for your poor deprived palate." Éomer explained.

"That explains the food, but what of the rest? This is marvelous! I do not know what to say." Faramir shook his head in wonder.

"Well, you have rarely been out of doors since we arrived here, so I thought you would enjoy this. Lord Marach and Boromir approve—do you, dear Faramir? Do you like it?" Éomer was suddenly shy.

"Like it? I love this, Éomer, truly. Thank you, my lord." Faramir's radiant and happy face told Éomer all he needed to know.

"Then let us have at the food and wine—I'm starving!" The Rohirric Prince bounded up the two steps into the pavilion as if Faramir weighed nothing at all; he then sat the young Gondoran gently onto the fluffy pillows, placing a light blanket over his knees, before sitting down upon the bench across from Faramir.

"I think that the blanket is a bit much," Faramir decided, lifting it up and off his legs. "It is late spring, nearly summer for Elbereth's sake."

Éomer retrieved it, placing it back again. "Boromir insisted that I keep you warm and comfortable, otherwise, he would not allow me to do any of this. I do not relish dealing with an irate big brother—especially yours!"

Faramir laughed, relenting. He knew his brother, and Éomer was very wise as Boromir was worse than a mother warg where his 'Little One' was concerned. "Very well, my friend, very well."

The 3rd Marshal of the Riddermark passed Faramir a plate with grapes and strawberries. "If the grape seeds are too taxing, I shall have this apple peeled and sliced momentarily. Of course, there are plenty strawberries as well as bread and cheese. Take small bites of the cheese—better yet, forgo the cheese as it may—"

"Are you Boromir in disguise, perchance?" Faramir chuckled, interrupting Éomer's stream of sentences, much like his sister Éowyn was wont to do.

"I am sorry—you inspire my overprotective nature. Boromir and I have that in common where you are concern." Éomer became nervous, as this was as close as he had ever come to telling Faramir of his feelings. Covering quickly, he said, "Besides, Éowyn would kill me if I did not take good care of you for her."

Faramir's smile faltered before disappearing altogether. Seeing this, Éomer asked, "What is wrong, Fara—are you ill? I have rushed you too soon, overexerting you. Forgive me, please!"

"I am not overexerted, Éomer. I am fine, really; do not concern yourself." Faramir grew quiet, nibbling a berry, but not tasting it.

"Then I have insulted you in some way; please tell me how to make amends." Getting up, Éomer moved to kneel beside his secret love. Taking one of the Gondoran's hands, he peered up into the beloved face. "Please talk to me?"

"Is that the purpose of all this and the care you've taken these past days?" He inquired, looking down at the half-nibbled fruit.

"The purpose? I do not understand." Éomer was truly perplexed.

"I thought that your attentiveness was because you care for me." Extraordinary violet eyes stared into concerned hazel ones. "But it was all on behalf of another. Big brothers!" The last was said in an attempt at a jest, but failed.

"Faramir..."

"It is alright, Éomer—I should not have read more into your behavior other than what was always there. We are as comrades—nothing more." Pulling his hand away, Faramir tried to stand up. "I think perhaps it _was_ too soon for any of this. I would like to go back inside now."

Neither of them noticed Boromir beyond the garden, having come out to check on his brother. However, that changed when he saw Faramir's unhappy face. "Little One—what is wrong?" The elder Steward-prince hurried to Faramir's side.

"Boromir," Faramir was relieved to see his brother. "I am not well—please take me back to my room."

Giving Éomer accusatory stare, green eyes promised retribution. "What did you do to him?"

"Éomer has done nothing, Boromir. I am...just tired." Boromir checked for fever; Faramir was not warm, but his face was flushed and he seemed near tears.

Cupping his brother's forlorn face in his large hands, Boromir kissed his younger brother gently on the lips, pulling him into a comforting hug; then with little effort, he swept Faramir up into his arms, carrying him back into the outpost, leaving Éomer to follow helplessly in their wake. When they had reached Faramir's chambers, Boromir gently removed his brother's boots and loosened his tunic; removing it, he helped Faramir under the covers, tucking him in, much as he has done over the years.

Éomer stood mutely just inside the door looking on, hating himself for upsetting Faramir. He now realized why Faramir became upset. Éomer never knew for sure how the young diplomat felt; whether he cared for Éomer or his sweet young sister. There was very little doubt now and he wanted to speak to Faramir as soon as they were alone. However, from the look of Boromir, that would not happen this day.

Pulling him outside, Boromir told Éomer, "I do not know what you said to Faramir (I will ask him later); but, I warn you—I will not have him hurt by you. I love you as a brother, but Faramir is my blood and the one I love most. He has seen too much pain in his young life and you will not add to that."

"I did not mean to hurt him; in my nervousness, I misspoke, upsetting him. May I sit by his side to guard his rest? I promise not to disturb Faramir."

"Why should I?" Boromir folded his arms across his broad chest, waiting.

"Because, I love him." It was simply said, but heartfelt.

"Then, do you not think you should tell _him_?" Boromir appeared more relaxed, but he did not intend to let down his guard where Faramir was concerned.

"I do and I shall. _May_ I sit with him? Please let me, my lord."

"Very well; but if he asks you to leave, you will—understand?"

Nodding in the affirmative, Éomer was ushered in. When he sat down, they saw that Faramir had fallen asleep. Therefore, Éomer waited, watching over Faramir and Boromir waited, watching him; Éomer barely noticed. His life had just become complicated where Éowyn was concerned, but he was jubilant knowing that Faramir would soon know of Éomer's love for him.

ooooooooooooo

_Greenwood the Great_

"May I help you, Aran-nín? Is there anything I can get for you?" A concerned servant asked of King Thranduil. She was the latest one, others having come before to no avail.

"Can you bring me my son?" He spared her a brief look (not unkind) before turning back towards the graves of his loved ones; his spouses Edrahil and Eärwen and his father Oropher.

"There is food and wine just there should you want them." She paused before speaking again. "We worry, Your Majesty—you have not eaten this day or the day before."

"I appreciate your concern and the others' concern as well; I am not hungry. Please, go back and tell them that I am fine. I wish to be alone with my family." His voice sounded as strong and as sure as ever, but the set of his shoulders and his posture bespoke of his sorrow.

The elleth did as she was bid, walking over to the other servants at the edge of the garden where King Thranduil's beloved family rested. A shake of her dark head confirmed their fears. They had thought that the news that Prince Legolas yet lived would mean their King would once again be himself; this did not happen, however. His Little Leaf was among the Edain. The King's hatred and distrust of these mortals went back centuries, having suffered much at their hands.

"I truly need your counsel, Edrahil my love. You were there for me when I lost Adar. And, dearest Eärwen, you saved me when my beloved Edrahil was taken from me by Men; our child is missing and I can feel his sadness. He is so much like you; you would be so very proud. Father, what am I to do? I want to march to Gondor and raise Minas Tirith to the ground to find my Legolas! However, I must be patient, Elrond tells me; so does my friend Celeborn. War is not the answer. I suppose this is a wise course, but I want my Little Leaf back here in my arms where he belongs and not out there among—_them_!

"When you are back with me, Greenleaf, I shall never allow you out of my sight again. Stay safe, ion-nín; I will get you back—I swear it!" The ancient elf (who looked not much older than his eldest son) felt better, his conviction strong.

Saying goodbye for now to his loved ones, King Thranduil returned to his palace to prepare for the coming of the Imladrian delegation.

ooooooooooooo

_The Golden Wood, Caras Galadon_

"There you are, Penneth. I stopped by the talon to share morning meal with you; however, Arminas knew not where you were this morning. How fare you?" Haldir inquired of Oropher Thranduilion.

The golden elf stood in a clearing near a small stream. He turned at the sound of the Marchwarden's voice. Instead of the optimism from the previous night after speaking with the Lord and Lady, the Greenwood Prince's handsome face was once again showing worry and despair.

"Haldir—I am sorry I was not there to greet you. I could not rest, so I came here, hoping the lovely sounds of the stream, the creatures and the flora would ease my thoughts, helping to lull me into reverie. Instead, I have been here thinking of Legolas and Adar, wondering how they are faring. I spent part of the night making sure that 'Minas was settled; and, now I am nearly depleted with nothing left to give—especially to myself. I have tried to be strong for 'Minas and our people, but..." An anguished cry escaped before he could stop it.

Haldir had Oropher within his embrace before the other realized. The elder of Thranduil's sons tried to pull away at first—the Heir of Greenwood should embody strength above all else. However, he was so tired of trying and gave into his sorrow, allowing his dear friend to comfort him.

"There is no one here save the two of us; no one to look after at the moment. Let me be for you what you have been for your sibling and everyone else." The handsome Silvan elf held on tightly, but with great care as one would something precious.

"Thank you, Meldir-nín. I cannot express to you how very grateful I have been to have you with us—with me—these past weeks. Over the years, I have treasured our friendship, looking forward your wonderful letters; awaiting your visits with great anticipation." Oropher brightened briefly to tease Haldir. "Your visits have been too infrequent of late—I may have to ask Lord Celeborn to lecture you about your inconstancy and neglect. He and Adar are kinsmen, you know—we Sindar are quite loyal."

"No lectures from Lord Celeborn, I beg you! If I promise to do better, will you forgive me?" Haldir's heart was cheered to hear the younger elf jest, his voice light-hearted for the moment.

"I will consider it, provided you give me a treat; or better yet—a present. I have not received many of those as of late, either." Oropher's head was still on Haldir's shoulder, his breath ghosting warmly across the Marchwarden's throat, the scent of vanilla encircling them as Haldir caressed the Prince's soft hair.

Haldir adored Oropher and had from the first moment they met nine hundred-fifty years before. The handsome Silvan had accompanied Lord Celeborn, the Lady Galadriel, and their ward, the beautiful Lady Eärwen, to Greenwood the Great the first of spring that year. Haldir was 1200 years old then (nearly the same age as Oropher's current age of 1300). Oropher had only been 350 years old.

When their party arrived in the courtyard of the Palace, the young Prince was standing behind the King, peeking from around the right sleeve of Thranduil's grand robe. Were he mortal, he would have been a child of 8 years; a beautiful elfling with emerald-green eyes. The newly appointed warden assigned to protect Lady Eärwen in Eryn Galen was instantly enchanted by the shy Princeling.

As the months passed, Eärwen grew closer to King Thranduil and Oropher, spending much time with them. This meant that Haldir was spending nearly as much time in their presence as well, guarding his charge and getting to know Oropher who became quite fond of Haldir at the same time. When the time came for the party from Lothlórien to return home before winter arrived, there was great sadness to go around. Oropher cried to see them go and though he did not show it, Haldir knew in his heart that King Thranduil was unhappy to say goodbye to the lovely Eärwen.

The next spring saw the Royals from Greenwood the Great arriving in Caras Galadon. Visits between both realms became yearly events for the next ten years until finally, Thranduil asked Eärwen to become his Queen; she accepted and they wedded the following year in Eryn Galen. It was a marvelous event attended by elves throughout Middle-earth, including Círdan the great shipwright and Lord of Mithlond.

Haldir remained in Greenwood as Queen Eärwen's personal guard for many years until just after Legolas was born. Oropher looked up to Haldir and Haldir was very fond of him, teaching him archery and swordplay. Understandably, the young adolescent Princeling developed a tremendous infatuation for the elder elf. At the age of 600 years, Oropher along with his parents and the elfling Arminas welcomed Legolas. The birth marked the end of Haldir's stay in Greenwood.

On a visit to see the newest Prince, Lady Galadriel asked Haldir to return to Lothlórien to become the lead Marchwarden. He was honored and excited by the prospect; however, when he informed the Queen of Galadriel's proposal, the devastation on Oropher's beautiful young face nearly made him decline. It was only after Haldir promised to write to him often and to visit, as his duties would permit, that Oropher calmed, giving Haldir leave to officially accept the position.

The two friends wrote letters to the other; and Haldir would send gifts as well to Oropher. Then, every few years, Haldir kept his word and visited Greenwood the Great, spending most of his time with the young Heir-apparent; Oropher came to Lothlórien with his mother as well, accompanying the Marchwarden on some of his patrols. However, in later years as Oropher grew up, becoming a great warrior and protector of his Homeland, Haldir's and the Prince's visits grew fewer and fewer. The letters and their friendship, however, continued and suffered no lessening over the 950 years of their acquaintance.

That beautiful relationship allowed Oropher to defer to Haldir, letting the troubled Prince accept his comfort. "I will shower you with treats and gifts—as many as you desire, Dearest One."

"You shall be sorry you said that, Meldir- nín—take it back before it is too late." Oropher's hands unconsciously stroked Haldir's strong back, holding onto him as if he feared the Silvan would vanish.

"Nay, Pen-vuil—I will not. I plan to spoil you until I see you smiling again." Haldir reluctantly pulled back enough to look into emerald-green eyes, a pale hand caressing a soft, rose-tinged cheek. "I shall see you happy once more, even if it means that _I_ personally ride into Minas Tirith to bring our Greenleaf back to us."

The Sinda laughed at the grand proclamation. "I believe that you would." Then more seriously, "As much as it would make me happy to have Legolas here with me, I will not risk losing you to those mortals, too. Adar and Lord Elrond will find a way to bring him home." It was Oropher's turn to touch Haldir's face, both hands cupping it lovingly. "But, if you were to go to Gondor, I would go with you to keep my eyes upon you."

Haldir caught his breath, the look in the Prince's beautiful eyes catching him off his guard. "Oropher, what are you saying? I mean—never mind, Penneth. Never mind." The lead warden stepped further back, taking Oropher's hands into his own, squeezing them briefly before letting go.

Oropher watched the play of emotions on the Silvan's handsome face. "I am sorry, Haldir. I have distressed you; I did not mean it. I would die before deliberately doing so."

"You have done noting for which you need be sorry. I took your jesting seriously. I had forgotten your delightful sense of humor."

"T'was not all in jest, 'Dir. Those humans are treacherous and I would not see you in peril. My family has lost too many loved-ones to lose you, too. You mean the world to me."

"Thank you, Oro'—I am fond of you as well."

"T'is more than fondness—do you not know that?"

"More? I think, perhaps, we should not speak further. Come, let us break our fast; then you should rest." Haldir took one of the Prince's hands intending to lead him back to his and Arminas' talon; but the young Sindarin Prince's next declaration brought him to a halt.

"I love you, 'Dir, with all my heart. I have forever, it seems. I should have spoken of it before, but it never seemed the best time. Per...perhaps, I feared what you would say; that our friendship would suffer. However, being separated from Little Leaf and fearing the worse has shown me that I cannot afford to leave my feelings unspoken to those I care for.

"I have been beside myself with worry and anger for allowing Legolas out of my sight; for not telling him how much I love him. I have not told him nearly enough over the years. That is why I am telling you how much I love you and not just as my friend. I would spend my life with you—here in Arda and in Valinor."

The love shining forth from Oropher threatened to overwhelm Haldir. He never dared hope that this beautiful elf cared for him more than one friend would another. This just could not be. Haldir had to put a halt to this situation.

"You are distraught and do not know what you are saying, Oro.' This troubled time with which we are dealing has your emotions running free. I will not hold you to any of this. Come, Penneth; we will join 'Minas for morning meal," Haldir said somewhat desperately.

"If you do not feel the same for me, Haldir—I understand. Just, please do not belittle my affections for you. I will not speak of it again if that is what you wish. Just know that I am sincere." Oropher turned away, posture and mood once again as when Haldir found him.

"I could never belittle you, Oropher. I adore you and have done from the very first. You were a delightful elfling and you have grown into a remarkable ellon. You merit someone better than I. I am too old for you and much too common; I am not of noble birth.

"My mother was a simple elf-maid and although my father was a great warrior and warden here, he had no grand title bestow upon me or my muindeir. Your life's mate will be noble—a Lord or Prince, Lady or Princess. You must see this."

"There are none better than you, Haldir! Nobility comes in many forms. No grand Lord, Lady, Prince or Princess could replace you in my affections!" This was the first time Oropher ever raised his voice in anger to Haldir and he felt like shaking the elder elf.

Then he calmed, deciding on a different course. First, they would bring Legolas home whole and hale. Then, afterwards, he would show Haldir how much he was loved. Oropher had always been able to get what he wanted—even as an elfling. He was never manipulative or deceitful about it; just very determined. Now he was very determined to have Haldir. Being immortal was an advantage after all; and if it took an eternity, Oropher knew that he would succeed.

Haldir's blue eyes narrowed as Oropher's disposition changed. _This cannot be good_, he thought. The Prince was stubborn and he could be very strong-minded; this is what made him a great warrior. These traits (which he inherited from his adar) are, also, what will help make him an excellent King someday.

"Forgive me, Haldir. I _am_ quite hungry and very tired as you say. I am ready to break my fast—will you join me?" He smiled charmingly as he took Haldir's hand. "Thank you for coming to find me; I feel much better."

"I am glad, Dear One. We will look in on Arminas and have some food. Then you will rest, Your Highness." The Marchwarden followed Oropher a bit uneasily, not liking or trusting the sweet smile Oropher wore.

The last time he wore such a smile, he had charmed Haldir into helping him convince his parents he was old enough to have his first taste of Miruvóre. Well, Haldir could be just as strong-willed as his young friend. _Well, Oro'—I will not be so easily charmed this time. You will marry someone closer to your station and I will see to it that you find happiness with him or her for this is what I want most_. At least that is what he told himself. This should have put his mind at ease, but it did not; and he was unsure just why—refusing to look any closer.

ooooooooooooo

_Minas Tirith _

_(The following day...)_

King Arathorn signed the petition Lord Denethor brought for him to approve, placing it on the stack of other parchments that had needed his attention. He had been mulling over the documents for most of the day. The work was tedious, but it kept his mind occupied and off of ghosts of the past. If only they were ghosts, then he could move on. The memories were all too real and alive in his mind and heart. He allowed himself a moment to remember before he went back to his task.

A knock at the door interrupted his concentration. "Yes?"

He did not look up as his clerk entered, bringing him some tea on a tray with bread, meat and cheese. The young scholar often repeated this ritual whenever Gondor's ruler entrenched himself in his office, missing lunch.

"Food, Sire." The young scholar set the tray down on a wide, low table in the office's sitting area near the fireplace. It was late spring, but rooms in the Citadel were often chilled, even during midday; so Belthil stoked the logs, making them blaze alive, warming the place more.

"Please take it away, my lord—I am not hungry," Arathorn II told his clerk.

"It seems we have this discussion much too often, Your Majesty. Would you prefer tea or some wine?"

"I would prefer that you do as I ask. If you entertained that notion just once, you will realize that we need not repeat ourselves in useless discussions." The King had not once lifted up his dark head, his handsome face frowning, trying in vain to make sense of the invoice before him while trying in vain to make his assistant do as he was told. While the first task was obtainable, the other was doom to failure.

"That is true, Sire; however, you would go hungry and your mood would sour and the White City would run in fear." Belthil's voice was dire in tone and his lovely face showed mock gravity.

Looking up finally, the dúnadan ruler narrowed his eyes. "You are this close to getting a hand across your backside!" He held up a hand, his thumb and forefinger measuring out barely and inch between them.

"Promise?" Amber-colored eyes twinkled impishly.

"Not now, young man—I have work to finish." Arathorn smiled in spite of himself at Belthil. Then just as quickly, his smile vanished. His fondness for the beautiful brunet was always tinged with guilt as he berated himself for taking Belthil to his bed.

The scholar was barely older than Boromir—a child really. Belthil did not agree. Although he came to King Arathorn untouched in the ways of the flesh, he was wise beyond his years. A brilliant scholar who had studied and excelled in Gondoran law, he was chosen from dozens of hopefuls to be the personal assistant to the King of Gondor; some who had taught him at the Academy of Middle-earth Studies in Dol Amroth. Both of Belthil's parents and his maternal grandfather were scholars, their elven heritage giving them minds sharper than most. Belthil, however, was even more gifted than they.

One-quarter elf; his mother was a peredhel who chose mortality after falling in love with the young man's father, a Dúnedain whose great-great grandfather had been one-eight elf. Belthil took after his mother, who was part Noldor originally from Mithlond. He was every bit as fair as the Eldar with long, straight hair the deepest shade of midnight and eyes the color of fine mead. He was tall, slender, and quite lovely and despite his efforts, King Arathorn became attracted to him, eventually taking him as a lover. As much as he was fond of Belthil, Arathorn knew that he could never love him as he deserved to be loved--wherein laid his guilt.

Seeing the familiar emotion clouding this Liege's face, the beautiful scholar came to his side. Cupping Arathorn's bearded cheeks, Belthil implored, "Please, Majesty—do not berate yourself like this. I am no victim, nor am I sorry for our association. I do not expect any more than you can give to me; and what you give is enough." Perfect rose-tinged lips smiled before taking Arathorn's lips in a kiss, deepening it when the King pulled him down onto his lap.

Breaking the kiss after some moments, the King's smile was back. "Association? Is that what we have, Divine One?"

"I would not presume, Sire, to call it more. I am but a humble scholar," Belthil laughed.

"Humble. I like that; especially when you humble yourself on those rather shapely knees of yours." Rubbing a pale, flawless cheek with his large tanned hand, Arathorn gently kissed the other one. "What would I do without you, sweet Belthil?"

"Fortunately for you, my handsome Sire, you do not have to ponder that; for I plan to be at your side for as long as you wish." Their kissing resumed and it was some moments before either realized they were no longer alone.

Preparing to reproach the intruder whom he figured was his Steward or even his Queen, the High King Arathorn II was more than surprised to see a grey-clad figure standing just inside the door to his office.

"Mithrandir! I did not know you were coming. You should have sent word and I could have prepared a proper greeting for you." The King was genuinely happy to see his old friend and first mentor.

"Forgive my unannounced visit, Your Majesty; it could not be helped." Gandalf's voice and face were grave and he seemed even a little bit anxious.

Gently lifting Belthil from off his lap, Arathorn stood up and crossed over to where the Maia stood. "Come, Old Friend—sit down. Belthil, get Mithrandir some wine." Taking a seat across from him, the King spoke again. "What brings you here and what has you so out of sorts?"

Taking a sip of wine, Gandalf thanked the young clerk before staring at Gondor's young King. "I'm afraid that I do not bear glad tidings, Sire."

Becoming frightened of a sudden, Arathorn instantly knew that this news involved Aragorn. "My son? Please, tell me."

In a statement both ironic and understated, Gandalf said, "I am afraid that the child has gotten himself into a bit of trouble."

TBC

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Elven Phrase Glossary:

_Imladrian_ — Citizen of Imladris, the Elvish name for Elrond's refuge in the western glens of the Misty Mountains. Also called Rivendell.

_Nimloth_ — a gift to the Men of Númenor from the Elves of the Undying Lands; it was a seedling of a tree named Celeborn which grew on the island of Tol Eressëa.

_Tol_ _Eressëa_ — The Lonely Isle of the Elves of Aman, on which Ulmo brought the Elves to Valinor long ages before the rising of the Sun and Moon, and on which many still dwell within sight of the Undying Lands of Aman.

_Valinor_ — home to the Valar and the eventual home to all elves. Also called the Undying Lands of Aman.

_Valar_ — Powers of Arda or the Powers of the World. The name given to the fourteen powerful spirits who took physical form and entered Arda to give order to the world and combat the evils of Melkor.

_Naneth_ — Mother

_Adar_ — Father (formal)

_Ada_ — Father (familiar) or Daddy

_Daernana_ — Grandmother (familiar)

_Daernaneth_ — Grandmother (formal)

_Aran-nín_ — My King

_Edain_ — Elvish for all Men; however, the name was originally given by the Elves to the _Three Houses of Men _(Númenóreans). The singular form is Adan.

_Three Houses of Men _— In the order in which they came to Beleriand during the War, were:

The House of Bëor

The House of Haleth (the Haladin)

The House of Hador (the descendants of Marach not the OMC here and his people)

_Penneth_ — Young one.

_Meldir-nín_ — My dear friend (male)

_Eryn Galen_ — Greenwood's other name before the Sauron's Darkness to came there; literally means green wood.

_Círdan_ — a great shipwright and mariner of the Elves; he was the Lord of Mithlond.

_Mithlond_ — Grey Havens

_Pen-vuil _ – Dear one

_Muindeir_ — Brothers (actual). Plural of muindor (brother)

_Miruvóre _or _Miruvor_ — a warm and fragrant clear cordial of the Elves.

_Riders of Rohan/the Mark_ — commonly used and refer specifically to their mounted soldiers.

_Belthil_ — 'Divine radiance.'

_Mead _— sweet wine of fermented honey.

_Peredhel_ — Half-elf or half-elven

_Noldor_ — (Meaning those with knowledge) The division of the Elves that followed Finwë as their lord; accounted the greatest of the Elves in matters of lore and craft.

_Mithrandir_ — name the Elves called Gandalf.

_Maia_ — singular form of Maiar (spirits who helped and served the Valar).

Elvish definitions, names and terms taken from the _Silmarillion,_ from the reference book _Tolkien's World From A to Z, The Complete Guide to Middle-earth_ by Robert Foster and from _The Encyclopedia of Arda._ A very few are taken from fandom authors (not authenticated).


	13. Chapter 13 “Discovery”

Title: Another's Guilt

Author: Númenora

Rating: G/PG this chapter

Warnings: Slash, Mpreg, AU, Un-betaed

Disclaimers & Summary: See previous chapters.

A/N: This chapter continues some of what was revealed and hinted at in Chapters 11 through 12. Like the last chapter, dates/days are pretty much synchronous, although the actual the times of day may not be. The new love-birds are back as well as Rohan's Royal Family. In the last chappy, Arwen was headed to the Golden Wood, Elrond was en route to Greenwood the Great where King Thranduil awaited his arrival, Éomer and Faramir were on the verge of proclaiming their secret love for each other and Oropher declared his love for Haldir and Gandalf arrived in the White City. Boromir, Faramir, Éomer, Lord Marach and Legolas' brothers will not appear in this chapter; nor will King Thranduil, Arwen, Haldir and the Lord and Lady. This chapter will see the return of Lord Elrond and Glorfindel and Lord Denethor will appear briefly; and it will speak of a few other Tolkien characters that will help the story along. Last chapter ended with Arathorn being informed by Gandalf that Aragorn was in some kind of trouble. We pick up there…

From the end of chapter 12:

_"Forgive my unannounced visit, Your Majesty; it could not be helped." Gandalf's voice and face were grave and he seemed even a little bit anxious._

_Gently lifting Belthil from off his lap, Arathorn stood up and crossed over to where the Maia stood. "Come, Old Friend—sit down. Belthil, get Mithrandir some wine." Taking a seat across from him, the King spoke again. "What brings you here and what has you so out of sorts?"_

_Taking a sip of wine, Gandalf thanked the young clerk before staring at Gondor's young King. "I'm afraid that I do not bear glad tidings, Sire."_

_Becoming frightened of a sudden, Arathorn instantly knew that this news involved Aragorn. "My son? Please, tell me."_

_In a statement both ironic and understated, Gandalf said, "I am afraid that the child has gotten himself into a bit of trouble."_

*******

**

Chapter 13

"Discovery"

"Gandalf, what has happened to my son? Has he been hurt? Tell me everything, please." Arathorn searched the Maia's wrinkled, kindly face. A face full of worry.

"He is physically unharmed. However, he has made some decisions in the last few weeks that will have—no—decisions that _have_ had serious repercussions, already. Gondor may be plunged into war." Gandalf finished the wine, staring intently into his goblet as if it held the solution to this dire situation.

_"War?"_ Eyes incredulous and voice just above a whisper, the King continued, "With whom? What has Aragorn done? Please, Mithrandir…"

"Greenwood the Great and undoubtedly Rivendell as well as Lothlórien. This is quite serious. I will tell you all that I have discovered."

Belthil refilled the Wizard's glass, then moved to stand behind his King, placing a pale hand on a broad shoulder, rubbing gently.

"I was visiting with the Ents in Fangorn Forest. Treebeard and I have had a long acquaintance as you probably remember from our lessons." Gandalf smiled briefly in fond remembrance of Arathorn as an eager student. "While in the midst of a week-long discussion on how to entice the Entwives to return, now that their location has been discovered, a rather spirited group of trees were speaking about a lost Elven Prince. It seems this young Prince was being held by Men. His weeping and pleading for help to some of their tree brethren spread throughout the forest in which this group of Men was encamped. It seems one of them was near death; attacked. This young ellon was being held for the crime.

"I asked Treebeard and the other Ents if they could help me investigate further. We learned that the Prince's captors were from Gondor and Rohan and were led by someone of high standing—A Prince. From the descriptions of this person and of his companions, it could only be our Aragorn, the Stewart-princes and the Third Marshall of the Riddermark. I believe that this is the general time that the Princes Band gets together to wreak havoc on the citizens of Edoras?" Gandalf smiled again, but grew serious once more.

"Now, I don't want you to become distressed, but I have deduced that it was Faramir who was injured and nearly died. However, he has recovered and is healing. In fact, he exonerated the poor Elf, who in his pleas for help, revealed that he was from Greenwood the Great."

The High King was relieved about his nephew Faramir, but his brow knitted in obvious confusion. "If the Elven Prince was exonerated as you say, then why should we be concerned about going to war?"

"Because, apparently, Aragorn refused to release the Elf and is right now bringing him to Minas Tirith."

Arathorn flew out of his chair and stood over Gandalf in disbelief and anger. "This cannot be true! Aragorn cannot have been this reckless; he knows better."

"I am afraid it is quite true. The party escorting Aragorn and the Elf was very near to Fangorn. They ran into a group of orcs." Standing to grasp the distraught father's arms in an effort to soothe him, the Wizard continued, "They dispatched the beasts with little effort and continued on their way toward Rohan. Now, this is where things get somewhat surprising; perhaps even strange. Now, remember he is quite well and unharmed, but for a brief time after the Orcs were destroyed, Aragorn collapsed. He became distressed when the Elf (whom the trees learned is named Legolas) disappeared.

"Aragorn sent him to hide in one of the trees there and when Legolas found himself alone, he hid high in the treetop where your son could not see him. Aragorn was frantic, near tears and then he fell. The Elf came to his aid and when it appeared that Aragorn had succumbed, Legolas' cried. His cries carried throughout the forest. The Men, the trees, the animals—they all were very moved."

Cupping his former students face, Gandalf said, "I have no direct proof, Your Majesty, but it may be love. Legolas and Aragorn may have fallen in love with each other. I do not know how this is even possible. Little Greenleaf is quite young for an Elf; he has not reached his majority. I am shocked that Thranduil has allowed the child to leave Eryn Galen as he has never wanted the Elfling far from his sight in the past. I can only deduce that he was headed to Lothlórien for their Founding Celebration and somehow became separated from his people. This is what the trees seem to believe.

"Arathorn, I do not have to tell you how King Thranduil feels about your people. And what he feels for Legolas, who is his youngest, is immeasurable. That child is his heart. Something has to be done to correct this situation."

"What can we do, Mithrandir? We are many leagues from Rohan and Greenwood. Perhaps I can send word to…to…_where?_! There is no time. Aragorn, my boy—what have you done!"

"All may not be lost, but we must move swiftly. I was able to enlist the aid of Gwaihir and some of the other Eagles. Gwaihir brought me here and he and his mate Altáriel are prepared to take us both to find Aragorn and Legolas. His brother, Landroval, has gone to Greenwood. He will inform King Thranduil of our plans and ask him to join us in Lothlórien—somewhat neutral ground. Another Eagle, Meneldor, will fly to Rivendell. I know that you have had problems with that family and I know that I am asking much of you. But, Elrond and Thranduil are close friends and I've no doubt that Legolas' father will have contacted him for his help. I do not mean to overstep by making these decisions for you and the others, nevertheless I feel that this is the proper course. If we could return Legolas to Thranduil, possible war can be avoided."

Agreeing to this assessment, the High King began making arrangements to fly to Rohan in search of the two Princes.

*******

**

_Rohan, Meduseld, in Théoden's Golden Hall_

King Théoden smiled indulgently at the two Princes as they stared at each other. Aragorn and Legolas held hands, ignoring the delicious food placed before them at the feast in their honor. They had eyes only for each other, unaware of the conversation around them. Éowyn spoke to Théodred earlier that day after she and King Théoden left Aragorn and Legolas at the Royal Guest House. She informed him about what they (she and the King) discovered there. Théodred laughed heartily in delight when he heard that Aragorn was in love and it now appeared that Legolas was also in love with Aragorn. He now knew why Aragorn showed such jealousy when he became too familiar with the young Prince earlier that morning.

"Your Highness? Your Highness," the Second Marshal said, trying to catch the young Heir's attention. "Aragorn, please give me a moment of your attention. I promise that Legolas will not disappear the moment you take your eyes off of him," he teased ironically.

"I am well aware of that, Your Highness. Say what you would say; I can both stare at my beloved and listened to you. I am quite bright in that respect," he chuckled.

"I understand that you and young Legolas will be returning to Outpost 40 and then continue on to Lothlórien tomorrow morn?"

"Nay, Théodred; Legolas and I shall continue on to Minas Tirith as originally planned," the Peredhel informed him."

Concerned, King Théoden inquired, "Do you think that is wise, Your Highness? I thought you had decided to take Legolas home?"

"Minas Tirith is home—his as well as mine." Looking at the First Marshall of the Riddermark, he continued. "My father will send word to Legolas' ada, inviting him to the White City and all will be well."

King Théoden's concern deepened. He knew that Aragorn was being naïve in thinking that this serious situation will be resolved so simply. "Legolas, is this what you wish as well?"

The Sindarin Prince's face was radiant, his inner glow quite bright. "It is, Aran-nín. My home is with Aragorn and Minas Tirith is where our son will be born."

"Son? What is it you are saying?" Éowyn and her brother looked askance to the young Elf.

"Why don't we retire to my chambers? The servants can bring the rest of our supper there." Then to the other celebrating revelers in the Golden Hall, the King said, "Please, my good people—continue the celebration. The Hall is yours."

Once they were alone, the King spoke to the beautiful ellon. "Legolas, I remember tales told by my grandmother about some male elves giving birth to offspring. Does this mean that you are such an Elf—that the tales are true?"

Blushing at his revealing the closely-guarded secret of his people, Legolas answered the King. "It is not widely known outside of the Elven world. But, yes—I can bear children. I know that once Aragorn and I announce our marriage, it will be a secret no longer, however…"

"Until such a time, none of us here will speak of it. But, Aragorn, there is still the matter of Legolas going to Gondor. Do you not think that the sooner word is sent to King Thranduil, he can rest easier knowing that his child is alive?"

"Word will reach the Elvenking. I am dispatching Sergeant Girion and two other rangers to return to Outpost 40 in the morning. The small party will travel light and swiftly; they will carry letters to Lord Marach, Faramir and Boromir. When Fara has recovered sufficiently, he and Lord Marach are to go to Lothlórien on a diplomatic mission. Legolas and I have written to Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel; and Leaf has also written to King Thranduil and to his brothers explaining everything. So, you see Your Majesty—All will be well."

King Théoden recognized that Aragorn and Legolas believe that they had all figured out. Aragorn cannot be easily swayed from a course once he has set his mind to it and he has obviously convinced Legolas as well. Stubbornness is a well-known trait where this young Gondoran was concerned. It was apparent from the moment they joined him in that things had progressed between the two lovers.

"Very well my son; I pray you are correct. Come now, let us not waste this delightful fare so skillfully prepared. Legolas, I hope that thet are to your liking. Many of these dishes are served in the White City as well." King Théoden raised his glass, toasting their guests and, for a while, no more was spoken about the possible storm that most likely would come due to this grave situation.

However, Rohan's Monarch thought silently,_ these young ones have no idea what they have wrought this day. May the Valar help us!_

*******

**

_A while later…_

"Would you or Prince Legolas care for tea, Aragorn?" Éowyn held forth a tray laden with cups and a kettle. Legolas was feeding the young Dúnadan a plump strawberry covered in frosting from a tart, moving it just out of reach until Aragorn lunged for it, capturing the stunning Elda's fingers along with that red fruit.

"Most sweet and delicious," he declared, licking the slender digits."

"Is my husband fond of strawberries?" Legolas carded the fingers of the other hand through the Peredhel's wavy, dark hair, enjoying the silky texture.

"Strawberries? I taste no strawberry; it is Elf I am savoring," Aragorn laughed, making Legolas laugh as he nibbled on his palm, moving to a pale wrist.

Éowyn, King Théoden and Théodred all joined in the laughter. Setting the tray on a nearby table, Éowyn asked the Sindarin Prince, "Your husband, Legolas? You are most eager to marry our Aragorn, are you not?"

"We are already wed, is that not so, Meleth-nín?" Legolas lifted a fork with a piece of strawberry tart to Aragorn's lips, kissing him before feeding it to him.

When he had swallowed his dessert, he answered his beloved. "That is so, Herven–nín. I am yours and you are mine."

Adding his voice to his sister, Théodred stated, "But, you've had no wedding. I would think you'd have mentioned one before now." He was amused, but puzzled.

"There was no need for a formal marriage ceremony; our parents are not here to follow a traditional Elven wedding." Looking at the Royal Family, Legolas explained. "In times of trouble, in flight, exile and wandering or when a conventional ceremony is not possible, a simple declaration of love and a consummation of that love is all it takes. We were bonded just a few short hours ago. We only need now exchange rings; when we reached the White City, we will do so then."

King Théoden passed a weary hand over his face, praying for strength and guidance. "Aragorn, Legolas—Do you realize what you have done? What your fathers will do? Do you both not think that King Thranduil will declare war on Gondor? The two of you and your reckless behavior may have doomed us all!"

*******

**

_Minas Tirith_

Arathorn was preoccupied, so he did not immediately notice how somber and out of sorts that Lord Denethor was. The King's Ministers and Advisors had left the Council chamber after a special meeting was called to discuss Aragorn, but the two men were now alone, both deep in their own thoughts.

"…Has recovered?"

It took the King a moment to realize his Steward had spoken. "I am sorry, my Lord—What is it that you said?"

"Faramir. He has recovered? You said that Mithrandir told you he'd been hurt and was near death. Is he truly well?" Although Denethor was 200 in Númenórean years, his physical age was equal to that of a non-Dúnadan mortal of 40; at the moment, however he seemed older than normal.

"Yes, Denethor—Faramir is no longer in danger. I could recall Gandalf here to speak more about what he learned."

"No, Your Majesty. As you know, Mithrandir and I are not the best of friends by any stretch of the imagination." He laughed, but King Arathorn knew that it was not heartfelt. "I have not been a good father to my sons." It was a statement, a quiet declaration that Arathorn barely heard.

"I never realized until now. Faramir is just a child." Denethor continued on in a quiet vein. "We live so long that it is easy to forget that we are not invincible. Not even the Eldar can claim such a thing."

Placing a hand on his brother-in-law's shoulder, the King said, "I am sure Faramir knows that you love him—they both do." Although, he knew that he was not so sure. He was not even sure his own son knew how much his father loved him.

"How can that be when I have never told him so? So many regrets; what would Finduilas think of me?"

"We both could have been more vocal in declaring our love to our children and we could have been a little more attentive. Our sons have raised themselves, it would seem. We cannot change the past, but we can let them know how we truly feel from this day on. That is if we all survive this calamity Aragorn has created; then we shall."

Denethor smiled. Although he was still worried, he pushed it aside. The High King of Gondor and Arnor needed him. He would have to see that the Rangers were prepared for war should it come to past. As Arathorn and Mithrandir search for the two Princes, Gondor will make ready for the coming tide.

*******

**

_The Misty Mountains (approximately the same time…)_

The sun was setting over the mountain and the temperature would drop soon. Glorfindel and the others in the small contingent would not notice the change in weather; however the Lord of Imladris, being part human, felt a slight chill. Normally, he would not at so small a temperature drop, but his emotional state was causing a slight impairment.

"Lord Elrond, will you not partake of some food? You have barely eaten since we left home." The Balrog-slayer placed a gentle hand onto his friend and Lord's shoulder, offering him some fruit.

"I am not hungry, Meldir-nín."

"At least take a small bite of lembas bread to hold you?" Glorfindel smiled as Elrond took the offered waybread, taking a very small bite.

"Do you realize that I never got to see his face or to hold him? Galadriel sent him away before…" Standing, he walked off a ways and stared off into the distance toward Minas Tirith.

Glorfindel did not need to hear a name to know the Peredhel spoke of Aragorn, called Estel before he was born. "You should not berate yourself; none of this is your fault."

"It is my fault. I should have gone after him and take Estel home to Imladris to raise. If Celebrían and Arwen had not wanted this, then it would have been too bad."

"You had no way of knowing that the Elfling lived. You believed him dead at birth. It was only years later that you learned the truth too late. They deliberately kept it from you knowing you would have prevented it." The warrior touched Elrond, caressing his hair before pulling him into an embrace.

"You are good for me, my dear friend." Elrond allowed himself a brief smile before turning serious again. "This matter is quite grave. I have seen him."

"Legolas?"

"I have seen Legolas, yes, but I speak of Estel. They are together, Glorfindel."

Stepping back to see his face, the blond warrior inquired, "He is the one who captured Greenleaf?"

"He was captive at first, but no longer. I do not know how I am to tell Thranduil this."

"Surely, this is good news, Meldir? If Legolas is free…?"

"He is free, but he remains with Estel of his own accord. I have seen it clearly—They are in love. And…" Elrond hesitated.

"And, my Lord?"

"Legolas carries Estel's child."

Glorfindel stepped back in alarm at the news. Elrond's gift of sight was quite strong and he would not say this if it were not so. "May the Valar save us!"

"I pray for that as well." Before either Noldo could comment further, a young ellon came running towards them from their camp quite agitated; his excitement alarming the elder Elves.

"My Lord Elrond! My Lord Elrond!"

"Calm yourself, Curufin. What is the matter?" The Peredhel asked.

"Look there!" Curufin pointed at the sky towards the West. Still faraway, but very clear to the Elves, a large bird was approaching.

From high above some while later, Meneldor (the Eagle Gandalf dispatched to Rivendell) spied the camp of the Elf he was seeking. Finding a clearing large enough to land, Meneldor set himself down, his large wings causing the nearby trees to sway as they would during a storm.

When Lord Elrond, Lord Glorfindel and the other eight warriors approached him, Meneldor spoke, his booming voice somewhat too loud for Elven ears, "Lord of Imladris—I bring you greetings from Gandalf.

"I am here to ferry you to Lothlórien. My kin Gwaihir and Altáriel will be ferrying Gandalf and Gondor's King Arathorn to find the Princes Aragorn and Legolas; and Landroval has gone to Greenwood the Great for King Thranduil.

"Gandalf asks that you agree to this and join him and the others in the Golden Woods. There need not be further strife between the Eldar and the Men of the West."

Lord Elrond and Glorfindel climbed onto the Great Eagle, instructing the remaining Elves to continue on to Lothlórien. The Imladrian Lord was somewhat relieved that Legolas would be with his family once more; however, there still may be war once Greenwood's volatile ruler learns that Legolas has mated with the son of a King who he considers his great enemy.

TBC

**Phrase Glossary:**

Mithrandir — name the Elves called Gandalf.

Maia — singular form of Maiar (spirits who helped and served the Valar).

Belthil — OC character named for the White Tree of Valinor, Telperion itsElf. Means 'divine radiance.'

Ents — a fictional race of humanoid trees.

Entwives — Female Ents.

Fangorn Forest — A forest that is the home of the tree shepherds

Treebeard — The eldest of the species of Ents who lives in the ancient Forest of Fangorn.

Stewart-princes — Formal title given to the Steward Denethor's sons Boromir and Faramir.

Princes Band — Name created by me, given to Aragorn, Boromir, Faramir, Éomer and Théodred by King Théoden in an earlier chapter.

Gwaihir, Landroval & Meneldor — The Great Eagles of the northern mountains. In LotR, they fought at the Black Gates and helped Gandalf save Sam and Frodo.

Altáriel — OC Great Eagle with a Tolkien name.

Third Marshall of the Riddermark — Éomer's formal title.

Second Marshall of the Riddermark —Théodred's formal title.

First Marshall of the Riddermark — Théoden's formal title.

Peredhel — Half-Elf or half-elven.

Meleth-nín — My lover or my love.

Herven-nín — My Husband

Sindar — (Grey People, singular Sinda) The division of Elves of Telerin descent. They are also known as the Grey Elves. Their language is Sindarin. The King of Doriath, Elu Thingol was the King of the Sindar.

Ellon — Male elf.

Eldar — (Star People' singular Elda) was the name given to the Elves by the Vala Oromë when he first found them wandering in the starlight of Cuiviénen. The name applied to all Elves, before the summons of the Valar.

Meldir-nín — My dear friend (male)

Imladrian — Citizen of Imladris, the Elvish name for Elrond's refuge in the western glens of the Misty Mountains. Also called Rivendell.

Noldo (singular of Noldor) — (Meaning those with knowledge) The division of the Elves that followed Finwë as their lord; accounted the greatest of the Elves in matters of lore and craft.

Curufin — OC character named after a prince of the Noldor of the race of Elves, the fifth of the seven sons of Fëanor and Nerdanel. Curufin is the father of Celebrimbor, master jewel-smith of Eregion who forged the three Elven Rings of Power.

Elvish definitions, names and terms and other Tolkien facts taken from the _Silmarillion_, from the reference book _Tolkien's World From A to Z, The Complete Guide to Middle-earth_ by Robert Foster and from The 'Encyclopedia of Arda.' A very few are taken from fandom authors (not authenticated) and the Web. Marriage ritual/tradition mentioned by Legolas is courtesy of **lethe_lloyd** and **aglarien1 **who found it in _Morgoth's Ring, Volume X of the HoME, Laws and Customs of the Eldar_.

A/N: I know that this chapter isn't as long as the last one and a few others, but I hope that it is as satisfactory as previous chapters. *g*


	14. Chapter 14 “Confessions”

Another's Guilt by Númenora

Rating: NC-17 this chapter

Summary: See chapter one.

Warnings, Disclaimers & Summary: See last chapter. Un-betaed.

A/N: As for warnings, I will add to the regular ones by adding a sap warning; Aragorn and Legolas are so young and in love that they are so sappy and mushy with each other. There is the customary angst coming from all sides. But, we are almost there as to the mystery of surrounding Aragorn's birth and the revelation to King Thranduil and all concerned that Legolas is with child and that he and Aragorn are bonded mates and why; this will be revealed next chapter. I will try and finish the entire story next chapter including an epilogue that will wrap up all of the relationships covered in this story. One little note about Celeborn—His features are those based on Movie-verse (Marton Csokas) except for his eye-color which is blue here, but may not be in real life. I have seen several pics and a few websites and no one can agree to the actor's eye color which some say is blue and others say is hazel. I even watched the extended version of FotR where Celeborn appeared and I couldn't tell.

Thoughts and stressed words denoted by _italics_

Chapter 14

"Confessions"

There was a knock at the door followed by Aragorn's smooth-toned voice. "May I enter, Legolas?"

Legolas' heart began to beat a little faster at the sound of his beloved begging entry. "Of course," the wood-elf replied huskily.

The smile that greeted Gondor's Heir took his breath away. The Greenwood Prince was seated at the vanity, unbraiding his hair, the strands catching the glow of the bedchamber's many candles. They stared shyly at one another's reflection in the vanity's mirror. Aragorn's hands stole to Legolas' shoulders; then moving to stroke the elf's long tresses, the Peredhel savored the feel of fine silk.

"I ran a bath for us, Aragorn. I mean, if you wish it." Suddenly Legolas was unsure. For all intents and purposes, they were bonded mates; however, he worried that his husband would soon regret taking this step.

"What is the matter, A'mael? Why the frown on your beautiful face?" Aragorn sat down next to his beloved with his back towards the mirror, but facing Legolas.

"I forced you into this. You were going to take me home and I..." Legolas' voice trailed off, fine white teeth worrying his bottom lip.

"You did not force me, my love. You gave me the greatest gift telling me you love me and that we were to have a child together. I have never wanted anyone more than I want you. I have never needed anyone the way I need you. I would die for you—Do you not know this?"

Touching Aragorn's bearded cheeks, Legolas smiled, his lovely blue eyes so full of love and trust. "I would die for you as well." Then grinning playfully, he said, "I think though, that it would be more pleasurable for us to be alive."

Ginning in response, the Gondoran Heir kissed the beautiful elf, saying, "I believe you are right, sweet Legolas. You are most wise."

Putting his arms around the other's neck, Legolas returned Aragorn's kiss. Near swooning, he did not realize that he was being carried until the _Dúnadan_ broke the kiss, only to bury his face in Legolas' pale neck.

They were near the large bathtub, they began staring intently into the other's eyes, smiling as the scent of sandalwood wafted around them. Then Aragorn placed his beloved on the floor and they each undressed the other, finally climbing into the fragrant bath. They embraced, holding each other close, Legolas' legs straddling Aragorn's and their hands roaming everywhere, bathing each other.

Legolas grew bold and took Aragorn's shaft in his right hand; he marveled at how quickly it hardened in his grasp; both soft and firm. Aragorn moaned deep within his throat at the gentle touch which caused him to come undone as his own hands moved down Legolas' smoothly-muscled back, eventually cupping the wood-elf' shapely backside in his hands.

The blond Prince moaned much the same as Aragorn had done, his head falling backwards, exposing his throat in unconscious invitation to the Peredhel's mouth. Aragorn nibbled and licked the soft flesh there, drowning in the scent and taste. Legolas trembled at the twin assault of his lover's mouth and his eager hands; crying out as a forefinger touched his entrance, gently probing the tight channel.

The bath oil coating them made it easy for Aragorn's finger to breach Legolas; nevertheless, he was very careful not to hurt his lovely husband. Not wanting to reach completion in Legolas' soft hand, Aragorn removed the busy palm and digits, placing them around his neck where the left one was caressing him.

The Gondoran Prince took his time preparing Legolas with first one, then two fingers; finding the secret slit Legolas told him about, he prepared it as well. Reaching between them, Aragorn began caressing Legolas' pale shaft, arousing him so that his inner walls would relax, allowing him to go much deeper. Covering the Elven Prince's mouth with his own, Aragorn removed his fingers, causing Legolas to groan in protest.

Chuckling in Legolas' mouth, he grasped his beloved around his slim waist, lifting him up above the water. Positioning him over his swollen member, Aragorn gently impaled Legolas, his body entering his tight, hot passage. Both Princes gasped meaningfully at the contact, Legolas' passage squeezing Aragorn almost painfully.

Aragorn began to move inside his elf, but he wanted more control; therefore, he once more effortlessly lifted Legolas up and carried him out of the bath. The blond Princeling wrapped his slender legs tightly around his beloved, holding the Peredhel inside of him as he was placed onto his back on a large divan.

The Númenoréan Prince went impossibly deeper as his larger body covered the pale form beneath him. Their bodies seemed made for the other, so perfectly they fit. Aragorn always felt that this would be so; reveling in the knowledge, he did everything he could to pleasure his beautiful mate, finding the sensitive core of him, thinking only of Legolas as they made love.

Gentle then forceful, but solicitous and tender was their coupling. When Aragorn felt he could hold on no longer, he reached between them and grasped Legolas' firm column, moving up and down the hard, velvety flesh. Legolas trembled, then tensed as he reached his peak, his essence spilling warmly over Aragorn's hand as he screamed his pleasure.

That sound alone was enough to make the Peredhel Prince come to his completion, but it was the spasming of the elf's inner muscles gripping his thrusting length, his life-giving seed spurting inside hotly. Neither of them moved for a long while, their bodies reveling in the joy and deep love each felt.

Finally stirring, the two Princes dried each other then climbed into the bed they shared earlier. They rested briefly, holding onto each other, coming together again to make love. When sleep came for Aragorn and Legolas slipped into reverie, their bodies were still connected, each loathe to part from the other. They had not a care in the world, neither realizing that their newfound happiness was about to be shattered.

Not too far away, the large wings of Gwaihir and his mate Altáriel were soaring effortlessly through the air, the Eagles making their way ever closer to Edoras bearing Mithrandir and King Arathorn. The sound of the flapping of the feathered appendages was heard by sentries long before the winged warriors were spotted. Once they were, King Théoden and Théodred were informed.

They watched as the immense birds landed gracefully outside of the city gates. Not long after, Gandalf and Arathorn were standing before the Great Hall of Meduseld being greeted by the First and Second Marshals of the Riddermark.

Théoden listened carefully to the Wizard and the High King who laid out their plan to solve this debacle created by the young Gondoran Heir. He was both relieved and distressed. Distressed and loathe to inform his late visitors that their wish to return Legolas before Aragorn could persuade him to continue on to Minas Tirith; before Legolas falls in love is moot.

But explained he did, causing Mithrandir to despair and Arathorn to exclaim in anger and frustration. "The young fool!" He shouted as he stormed out of Théoden's chamber. The others following close behind, not stopping until they reached the guest manor.

Arathorn went to the larger rooms, thinking as a Royal guest, Legolas would be there and Aragorn as well. Finding these empty, he moved to another, but was stopped by Théoden who pointed him to the correct ones.

"Your Majesty—Please let me..." Before he could finish his request, Arathorn shook his head no, then went into Legolas' bedchamber.

His heart fell at the sight that greeted him. Aragorn was lying between the elf's slender, pale legs, the bed's linens barely covering Aragorn's backside. His muscled arms were wrapped possessively around the Elda, his dark head lying next to the blond one whose pale arms surrounding tan shoulders, his fingers in the Peredhel's wavy hair.

As upset as he was, the King could not remember ever seeing a more beautiful sight as these two young lovers embracing. The image of love and tenderness momentarily sent the elder _Dúnadan_ back to over twenty years, making his heart constrict in pain and loss.

"My son," Arathorn whispered. Closing his blue-green eyes for a brief moment, he walked over to the slumbering lovers. "Aragorn," he called lowly at first, his voice breaking. Then louder and firmer, he spoke again. "Aragorn!"

Legolas' eyes blinked, then came into focus. At first he was confused, seeing a face much like his husband. _But, my beloved is here in my arms._

Unconsciously wrapping his arms tighter around Aragorn's shoulders, Legolas asked, "Who are you, Hir-nín?"

"I...I am King Arathorn of Gondor and Arnor and I've come to take you to your father."

"No, Aran-nín—I will not leave my husband!" Then to Aragorn, Legolas called urgently, "Aragorn, my beloved—You must wake. _Saes_."

Instead of waking, the sleeping Gondoran burrowed his face deeper in Legolas' throat, holding onto him as tightly as the elf had moments before.

Arathorn hated frightening Legolas, but this situation was most dire. He firmly shook his child's shoulder, "My son, you must wake up; there is no time to waste."

Stirring finally, the younger Gondoran smiled at Legolas. However, noticing the alarm reflected in his husband's lovely eyes, with concern, he inquired, "What is the matter, sweet Legolas?"

"Your ada..." Voice trailing off meaningfully, blue eyes shifted to the left, causing the Peredhel to glance over his shoulder.

"Your Majesty? Father, why are you here?"

Becoming angry, the King said coldly, "You can ask me this when the reason is lying beneath you? Get up!" When his son failed to obey, inquired, "By Elbereth, why are you not moving?"

Blushing much in the same manner as Legolas, Aragorn said, embarrassed, "I cannot right away, father..."

"Why not?" Genuinely perplexed, the King stared, not comprehending. Then, he saw his son looking down, indicating his and Legolas' lower torsos covered by the bedding.

Then as quickly as his ire flared, the absurdity of the situation made him want to laugh. This helped him to calm down.

"I will leave you both to dress, then. Mithrandir, Théoden and I will await you in the sitting room. This state of affairs must be remedied before blood is shed."

When Arathorn had gone, Legolas spoke fearfully. "He said that he is here to take me away; to take me to Ada. I cannot be parted from you, Aragorn. I cannot."

"I will not be parted from, you melethron. I will die first," the young Heir proclaimed vigorously.

"And I will die as well." Legolas declared as strongly, pulling his beloved into a meaningful kiss.

Aragorn returned the kiss with passion. When they were breathless, they reluctantly broke the kiss. Then with great care, the young Princes parted, Aragorn extracting his flesh from inside Legolas. Both were so very afraid; realizing that they may be separated against their wills. Nevertheless, they dressed quickly, but solemnly, each helping the other. Embracing once more, they held hands and exited the bedchamber.

The two Kings and Gandalf turned at the sound of the door opening. Seeing the sorrow worn by the young lovers, they all looked on with compassion. _These young ones must be protected now that they have bonded. Separating them now could killed them both,_ the Wizard thought sagely. Similar thoughts were in the minds of the two Monarchs as well as they watched Aragorn and Legolas sit down, arms surrounding each other and holding hands.

Much as they did with King Théoden and Théodred, Gandalf and Arathorn explained how they would proceed from this moment onward. Legolas learned that his father would be awaiting them in Lothlórien along with the Lord of Imladris.

"Why the Lord of Imladris, Majesty?" Aragorn asked.

Legolas answered, "He and Ada are great friends and Prince Elrond would most likely have been asked to accompany him, his counsel much valued."

"Greenleaf is correct, my boy. Lord Elrond is wise and has been called upon to mediate many times over the centuries." The Grey Pilgrim stated.

"He was your teacher, was he not Father? When you visited Rivendell." Aragorn asked Arathorn.

"Yes."

Another question was on the young Gondoran's mind. He did not wish to cause his parent pain, but Aragorn felt that he had a right to know. So, he looked askance to his father, inquiring, "Will my mother be there? I know that you do not like speaking about my birth, but I want to know who bore me."

"I am sorry that I haven't told you before, but the pain of losing them is still fresh. But, to answer your query—The two of you will finally meet. When you have, I will ask your forgiveness. That will come later. But, I will tell you that I am sorry for not being a good father to you."

"I knew that you loved me; I know that your time is not your own as High King."

"My father was High King and he was a great and loving father to me and to Finduilas. I have no excuse, Aragorn. Even so, I am here for you and Legolas. I will let no harm befall either of you. Now, I will ask you to pack a few things as we will be leaving here soon."

"I will go and inform Girion and the other Rangers. The trek to Lothlórien will be a long one and they will need to gather provisions. How many have you brought with you, My King?"

"We will not be traveling with the Rangers. Time is of the essence and speed of the utmost necessity. Mithrandir has enlisted the Great Eagles Gwaihir and his mate Altáriel to bear us to the Golden Wood. Two of his kindred were dispatched to Greenwood and Rivendell. They should be already be there by now."

Standing, Arathorn and Gandalf sent the young Princes to pack and Théoden volunteered to inform the Gondoran Rangers and guards of their destination, leaving out any sensitive information. Within two hours, Aragorn and Legolas were astride Altáriel and Arathorn and Gandalf mounted Gwaihir; both loathe to separate the young lovers. _Anor_ would soon appear, but Ithil still ruled the sky as the large, winged warriors ascended, ferrying the four of them to Lothlórien.

Speaking loudly to be heard above the great flapping of eagles' wings, Arathorn said, "I pray that this ends well for all involved, Gandalf. War is never the answer; nevertheless, it oftentimes have been the result of misunderstandings over the many centuries. I will not lose my son and I will do what I must for both of my children; for better or worse, Legolas is now my family."

"King Thranduil is very strong-willed and he declared long ago to treat Men as his enemies. He will not like that his youngest has become bonded with Aragorn who he will surely consider an Adan despite his Elven blood." Mithrandir pointed out.

Continuing, he said, "Legolas is quite young—Too young to be wed to anyone in Thranduil's opinion. Nevertheless, he deeply loves Greenleaf and he will do what is best to keep him safe.

"He will not let the elfling die of a broken heart as he surely would do should he be separated from Aragorn. I am sure that calmer heads will prevail in averting war."

"That is my wish and I pray that you are correct." Then both fell silent as they soared above Fangorn Forest, Lothlórien their final destination.

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**_Lothlórien__, the Gates to Caras ____Galadhon (Several hours before sunrise...)_**

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_Lord Celeborn, Haldir and his brothers stood by as the Greenwood Princes ran to their father. They had stood patiently along with the pair as the Great Eagles flew across Lothlórien toward the chief city Caras Galadhon, depositing Thranduil, his aide, Lord Elrond and Lord Glorfindel at the entrance._

_King Thranduil held his two eldest sons close, the youngest's tears wetting his neck as the Prince burrowed into his throat._

"It is my fault that Greenleaf fell into the hands of Men, Adar. You should be so angry with me instead of comforting." Arminas sobbed as he held on to his father.

"The fault is my own, Ion-nín. I made the decision to let him leave Greenwood. Calm yourself, child. Our Little Leaf is alive and he will soon be here in Lórien with us."

"That is such good news, Adar. We have been so distraught thinking that he may be lost to us forever." Oropher said as he stood back, smiling, trying to appear strong for his father. He could see beyond his King's calm composure.

The two of them knew each other best because for many years after Oropher's sire died, they had only each other. When Arminas' and Legolas' mother died (and Oropher's as well for she loved him so), it was he to whom Thranduil had turned and in whom he had confided. This was still the case.

"It is good to see you, my dear friend," Celeborn spoke to Greenwood's Monarch as he approached the trio.

King Thranduil smiled as he and the Lord of Lothlórien stood before each other. "Mae govannen, My Lord. Thank you for looking after my sons and for helping to search for Legolas."

"Your children are as my own; it is difficult being separated from those we love." Celeborn smiled at his old friend, then his clear blue eyes lit upon the gray of his son-in-law, Lord Elrond.

"Welcome back to the Golden Wood, My Lord Elrond. You as well, Lord Glorfindel." Glorfindel nodded with his hand over his heart in greeting.

Elrond, however, barely acknowledged his wife's father. Speaking only to to Thranduil, "I would like to have a few moments to discuss the situation with Legolas and Aragorn with you. It is most important."

"Of course, Hir-nín. Let us get settled and then we can talk."

Then, the Imladrian Lord turned to the Great Eagles Landroval and Meneldor. Knowing that his children were en route, he enlisted the winged warriors to bring them here. Arwen had refused to come, however, the Peredhel knew that she had changed her mind; he knew this even before Erestor mindpoke with him.

Elrond wanted his daughter to explain her actions to Estel. Looking back at Celeborn, he would ensure that all who mistreated the child face the young Prince. As the Eagles took flight to find Arwen, Elladan and Elrohir (and Erestor as well), the gathering of elves (save for Orophin and Rúmil who continued to stand sentry) went into the city to await Mithrandir, Arathorn, Aragorn and Legolas.

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**_Sometime later, many leagues from Lothlórien..._**

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Anor was quite bright, but pleasant as it shone down upon the four travelers soaring through the air. Aragorn and Legolas felt each other's nervousness and fear at what awaited them in the Golden Wood. Legolas' ada loved him deeply, but he had no love for Men. He would not consider Aragorn a suitable mate for him because of his mixed heritage. His King may insist that their bonding be terminated. Legolas knew of no way this could happen without one or both of them fading from grief.

Since their mating, Aragorn and Legolas had become more in tuned with the other; occasionally hearing stray thoughts from the other. They both knew that if it came to it, they would leave their families and countries and find a new home to live. Perhaps the only safe haven for them is The Undying Lands if no home in Middle-earth welcomes them. This would be made clear to everyone as soon as they reached their destination. Neither one would give up the other; no matter what.

Legolas' hands unconsciously gripped the Eagle's large feathers as they drew closer to Lórien. Echoing his distress, Gondor's Heir wrapped his arms tighter around his beloved, burying his face into the young elf's fragrant neck, his tears dampening the blond strands there. Greenleaf's tears dried upon his pale cheeks as the wind caressed his beautiful face.

Aragorn's voice whispered in Legolas' ear, his breath stroking the delicate point, making its owner shiver. "If they try and part us, let us enlist one of these gentle warriors to take us to Mithlond. In a few months, I will reach my majority and I will choose the life of the Eldar. When that is accomplished, we can hire a ship in the Grey Havens to take us to Aman."

"Yes, Herven-nín," Legolas said, turning his face, his forehead meeting that of his beloved. "If our families choose to keep us apart, we will do as you suggest—We will be safe and happy in Valinor."

They huddled together like that until Altáriel landed gently on the green field before Caras Galadhon. Not wanting to let go, they finally climbed down and stood next to Gandalf and High King Arathorn. The four of them stood silently as two Marchwardens approached. Gandalf and Legolas recognized them as Haldir's brothers Rúmil and Orophin. "Welcome back to Caras Galadhon, Prince Legolas. We have been so worried; your adar and brothers await you inside. Your absence has also been felt, My Lord Gandalf." Rúmil smiled kindly at the young elf as his brother made this greeting.

Gandalf thanked the Marchwardens. Legolas tentatively returned his brethren's smiles and greetings. He didn't really know what to say. He wanted to see his father and brothers and he was still very sorry that he worried them. Nevertheless, his greatest concern was his future with his husband.

Then, the Elven pair turned to the Gondoran visitors. He was somewhat confused by Legolas' seeming fondness for the dark-haired Prince. However, being a warrior, he knew that prisoners of war often became unnaturally attached to their captors. Regardless of his feelings for these Men of the West, the Silvan elves had a duty to perform.

Orophin spoke, "Mae govannen, King Arathorn. My Lord and Lady bid you welcome; you are also most welcome, Prince Aragorn. I know that you cannot remember being here, but Lord Celeborn wants you to consider this your home as well."

"I do not remember, however, I thank Lord Celeborn for his thoughtfulness." The younger Dúnadan said, bowing slightly, although he never released Legolas' hand.

King Arathorn echoed Aragorn's sentiments; but, like his son and Legolas, his own heart was worried and uncertain. He wanted his child safe and he would do whatever was necessary to avoid a war over this situation Aragorn created. But, there was also someone else he both wanted to see and dreaded seeing again. His past and Aragorn's life have come full-circle. What would happen next, he had no idea; no matter what, he would not sacrifice his son's happiness again. He and Legolas will stay together.

_I swear this, my child—with my soul, I swear it_.

TBC

End Notes: I'm not sure how long it will take before the next/final chapter will be posted due to other stories I'm working on as well as a story challenge that will be 25,000 words to be completed over the next few months. Just have patients and I promise it will get done eventually.

Phrase Glossary:

_**A'mael**_—Beloved.

_**Peredhel**_—Half-elf or half-elven.

_**Númenoréan**_—The inhabitants/descendants of Númenor; also referred to Men of the West.

_**Gwaihir**_, _**Landroval**_ and _**Meneldor**_—The Great Eagles of the northern mountains. In LotR, they fought at the Black Gates and helped Gandalf save Sam and Frodo.

_**Altáriel**_—OC Great Eagle with a Tolkien name.

_**Mithrandir**_—name the Elves called Gandalf.

_**First Marshall of the Riddermark**_—Théoden's formal title.

_**Second Marshall of the Riddermark**_—Théodred's formal title.

_**Elda**_—Singular of the Eldar (Elf-kind/Firstborn).

_**Dúnadan**_—Singular of Dúnedain (descendant of Númenor); in Canon, a name often referred exclusively to Aragorn.

_**Hir-nín**_—My Lord.

_**Aran-nín**_—My King.

_**Saes**_—Please.

_**Adar**_—Father (formal)

_**Ada**_—Father (familiar) or Daddy

_**Elbereth**_ —The Sindarin name of the Vala Varda. Her name comes up at various times during The Lord of the Rings, usually in a song or invocation.

_**Imladris**_—Lord Elrond's refuge in the western glens of the Misty Mountains. Also called Rivendell.

_**Imladrian**_—Citizen of Imladris.

_**Anor**_—The name for the Sun in the Sindarin language.

_**Ithil**_—The Sindarin name for the Moon

_**Adan**_—Singular of Sindarin word Edain which is Elvish for Men.

_**Caras Galadhon**_—Was the chief city of Lórien and was the residence of Celeborn and Galadriel. It was built in the middle of, on top of, and out of the mallorn trees. Also spelled Caras Galadon.

_**Ion-nín**_—My son.

_**Mae govannen**_—From the Sindarin (Elvish) meaning "Well met!" Used as a general greeting.

_**Elladan**_ and _**Elrohir**_—Lord Elrond's twin sons and Arwen's older brothers.

_**Mithlond**_—Also known as the Grey Havens where the Elven ports on the Gulf of Lune in the northwest of Middle-earth. It was used by the Elves to leave Middle-earth for Valinor.

_**Valinor**_—The realm of the Valar in Aman. It was also known as the Undying Lands; the eventual home to all elves..

_**Herven-nín**_—My Husband.

_**Marchwarden**_—Guards who defended the borders of Lothlórien. In this story, Haldir is the Chief or Lead Marchwarden.

Elvish definitions, names and terms and other Tolkien facts taken from the _Silmarillion_, from the reference book _Tolkien's World From A to Z, The Complete Guide to Middle-earth_ by Robert Foster and from _The Encyclopedia of Arda_. A very few are taken from fandom authors (not authenticated) and several LotR sites on the Web.


End file.
